


"Except for Everything, I'm Perfectly Fine"

by redrobinfection (ChristmasRivers)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Caffeine Addiction, Coffee, Drabble Collection, Ducks, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Injury, Introspection, Overly Technical Banter, Pre-New 52, Silly, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, makeout sessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 35,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12007035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristmasRivers/pseuds/redrobinfection
Summary: A collection of short Batfam drabbles (mostly Tim-centric) originally posted on my tumblr.NEWCoffee, Coffee Everywhere, Epilogue - Tim is drinking coffee again, in moderation, after giving it up for weeks to break his dependence on caffeine. The family is proud, but also skeptical and unfortunately they let their skepticism run away with them.“I happened to overhear Masters Jason and Dick discussing with Miss Stephanie the odds of your return to obsession the other night,” Alfred explained. He shook his head. “It would seem some of your siblings have taken bets as to when you would decline into a relapse.”Unwilling to just sit there and take such a slight, Tim takes it upon himself to prove the family wrong and have a bit of fun along the way.





	1. Sleepless (Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce, Alfred, the family, his friends... they all think Tim dislikes sleep and puts off on purpose. But that’s not how it is.

Tim wants to sleep. He really does. He knows Bruce watches and thinks Tim is wandering too far down the same self-destructive paths as him. He knows Alfred shakes his head and wishes Tim were young enough to shoo into bed without argument. He knows Dick would like nothing more than to drag him to bed and tuck him in whenever he wanders into the cave to find Tim hunched over the Batcomputer’s console, tapping away at endless reports and research and assignments.

He knows they all think he dislikes sleep and puts off on purpose. But that’s not how it is.

Tim wants to sleep so badly it’s like sleep is another bad guy, just another villain taunting Tim to catch it while it dances just out of reach. Going hours upon hours - until the hours turn into days - without rest feels like starving, his mind and his body running on a virtual empty that knows no limits and deepens until it feels like a black hole has opened up inside his soul. It hurts - his eyes, his back, his head, his whole body aching from the strain.

He _wants_ to sleep. He just… can’t. There’s one more street he wanted to loop back to check on patrol. It’s ten more minutes on a stake out just to be sure. There’s one, five, _ten_ more reports to file, because every little detail might make a difference. It’s an hour, two - _a night_ \- of research, digging deep and wading through seas of data just to find that smallest connection to break a case.

Tim wants to sleep - he really, _really_ does - but he needs to do so much more before he’ll let himself. Even as the deprivation slowly kills him - and deep, deep down he knows it’s stunting his growth, limiting his mind, and shortening his lifespan - he still pushes himself to do more, to be everywhere, to be _more_.

Batman needs a Robin and Robin has a job to do. Robin has a mission, the Mission, and there is no way Tim will rest before he does his absolute best, before he gives everything he can to fulfilling that mission.

It’s just one more street, one more minute, one more file, one more case, one more trip, one more _identity_ \- one more Robin, just of the _Red_ variety - one more life…

Someday he will sleep. If he’s lucky, he might even wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/164634440311/sleepless). Thanks for reading!


	2. JSON and SQL (Tim & Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this overly-technical bit of fluff to blow off some steam while struggling through the final project for a Web Development course this past summer. That is my only excuse for how needlessly nerdy this gets ;)

“Well, fine then, do whatever you want, JavaScript Object Notation.”

Jason blinked. He stared as Tim spun back to the computer and went back to whatever he was working on, effectively concluding the discussion (read: argument) regarding approaches to a case they were working together that Jason had stomped over to have with him a few minutes earlier.

“The fuck?”

Tim ignored him, tapping away viciously at the keyboards and muttering something about “ecmascript” as he scanned text and data spread across several screens.

If Jason remembered his Robin-era crash course on all things web - inevitably aimed at _hacking_ all those web things - the acronym for “JavaScript Object Notation” was “JSON”, colloquially pronounced “jay-son” or “jayce-on”. He remembered smiling the first time Bruce said the acronym out loud, but only a tech nerd like Tim Drake would ever think to use it as a joke, an insult, or both.

“Well, then, if I’m ‘JSON’” - Jason bit out, leaning over Tim’s shoulder with a sharp smirk - “then you must be _'es-cue-el’_ ” he responded, carefully spelling the acronym out letter by letter.

He dodged the slap Tim aimed at his face and chuckled under his breath as he backtracked out of striking distance. Tim twirled around to face him. “S-Q-L?” he parroted, looking half annoyed and half bewildered.

“Well, duh; you’re my replacement so clearly you’re the 'sequel’; 'MySQL’ if you will,” Jason replied with a wink, so not subtly referring to both a classic database management language and a common database management system.

Tim groaned and scrubbed both hands over his face at the puns, leaning back in the rolling chair until the hinges squeaked in protest. Jason chuckled at his reaction and waited patiently for the sassy retort. Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes for a long minute before he responded, but when he did he looked so utterly beyond exhausted that Jason almost regretted coming in and starting an argument when he had.

“Touché,” Tim replied and then sagged back into the chair, surprising Jason with the admission.

They were both silent for a long minute, Jason staring at Tim as Tim stared off into space, looking morose, but then Jason came to a decision, strode forward, and seated himself on the edge of the console, effectively blocking Tim’s view of the screens.

“Hey, whaddya say we call it a truce for now? I’m too damn tired to argue anymore and I hit the limit of my nerd-knowledge at 'mySQL’. How about we sneak up to the kitchen and see if Alfred’s made anymore of those loaded oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, huh?” Jason asked, getting right up into Tim’s face and waggling his eyebrows ridiculously when Tim attempted to ignore him.

This time Jason didn’t dodge when his replacement lightly slapped him on the face, allowing the exhausted kid a small win as he shoved Jason out of his space. Tim grumbled and griped, but the annoyance on his face had fallen away to be replaced with a faintly grateful expression underneath the dark shadows under his eyes and his fatigue-paled complexion.

“Yeah, why not. I could use more coffee anyway,” Tim sighed, feigning nonchalance as he briskly saved and closed his work.

Jason grinned. Tim was a sucker for those cookies. Okay, honestly, they all were. But still. Gotcha, Babybird.

“You and that coffee…” Jason shook his head as they headed towards the stairs, then perked up as he thought of something. He stopped and waggled a teasing finger toward Tim. “You could say that Timmy plus-equals coffee is then strictly equal to happy.”

Tim laughed out loud and shook his head. “Only if TIM” - he paused to punctuate his preferred name with a glare, then laughed at the mocking stink eye Jason shot back - “is currently at zero and coffee equals happiness, which, I’ll have to admit, by my book…”

_Bonus:_

__

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/164943704836/json-and-sql). Thanks for reading!


	3. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 1 (Tim & Jason)

“I need coffee,” Tim announced to the manor kitchen at 1am. Jason, kitchen’s sole other occupant, raised an eyebrow.

“Good for you?”

Tim ignored him, apparently talking to himself as he pulled his double sized mug from its customary hiding place behind his special deluxe coffee maker. “And a shower. I need coffee and a shower right now.”

Jason shook his head and pulled another of Alfred’s special oatmeal cookies out of the tin - he had to be quick before Alfred caught him eating them straight out of the container - and dunked it into his tea. They lapsed into silence while Tim stared unblinkingly at the coffee machine for the three long minutes it took the machine to grind beans, heat water, and brew.

Jason only jumped a little when Tim suddenly snapped his fingers out of the blue and pointed to the machine with a determined look on his face. “I’ll take the coffee with me into the shower.”

Jason blinked, lowering the mug from his lips slowly. “Uhhhh… Timbo?”

Tim was still lost in his own thoughts, muttering to himself that if he kept the mug in that one corner it wouldn’t be likely to get any water or suds in it, or better yet, he could use a travel mug. Jason drifted over to Tim’s side as he started digging through the upper shelves of the cabinet above the coffee maker, apparently looking for the largest travel mug they had. Jason reached up with his longer arm to the back of the shelf, pulled Bruce’s “secret” mega mug out, and tried not to frown when Tim cooed and mumbled his thanks as he snatched it away and hugged it to his chest.

“Hey, uh, Timbo? Timmers? TIM!”

Tim finally turned to face Jason as he brought the freshly filled travel mug up to his face to huff the rich scent. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“You. Apparently forever, if that mug of coffee is any indication,” Jason replied blithely. Tim snorted, popped on the lid, and took a long sip, a look of contentment coming over his face. “But all kidding aside, are you really going to take that mug into the _shower_ with you?”

Tim shrugged, unfazed. “Yeah, why not? It’ll save me some time - squeezing my coffee break and my shower break in at the same time - and then maybe I’ll be able to get through the rest of those reports and get to bed before four this morning.”

Jason opened his mouth automatically to reject the idea but froze when he realized there wasn’t really anything intrinsically wrong with the notion. Tim took in his dumbfounded expression with smug nod and lifted his mug for another sip.

There really wasn’t anything Jason could say against it - actually, it kind of made sense in a fucked up sort of way - it’s just… that’s not… people just _don’t_ do that. Jason closed his mouth and shook his head again. Tim chuckled and drifted toward the door. “Yup. That’s what I thought,” he called over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble came into being after I randomly had the urge to take my coffee into the shower the other day, but the concept wasn't new for me. I'll frequently take water and sports drinks into the shower after exercising. Tea with a shower can be quite relaxing. I draw the line at alcohol. But yeah. It works. It’s efficient. No one can tell me otherwise.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/164999121114/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-1). Thanks for reading!


	4. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 2 (Tim & Dick)

“Morning, Tim!”

“Hey, Dick,” Tim replied from across the kitchen, dumping a scoop of protein powder into a shaker. It looked like Tim was grabbing a shake and some fruit to make a quick breakfast before dashing of to WE. Dick approached, crouched down to counter level, and squinted at the dark liquid beneath the powder.

“Hey, uhh… what are you mixing this vanilla whey protein into, anyway?” Dick questioned uncertainly.

“Coffee,” Tim responded in stride, capping the shaker and shaking the contents vigorously until the liquid turned a light tan color. Dick wrinkled his nose and backed up into to the pantry.

“And that tastes okay?”

Tim paused and shrugged. “Tastes a whole heck of a lot better than mixing it with water or plain milk.”

Dick re-emerged with open box of Crocky Crunch and squinted at the partially mixed shake. “Okay, as long as it tastes okay to you, I guess…”

Tim continued shaking the mix while Dick munched on the sugary cereal. A new thought occurred to him, but Dick waited until Tim set the shaker down and started shoving the fruit into his bag.

“So, uh, that wouldn’t happen to be decaf coffee, would it?”

Tim laughed out loud. Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Did you at least get some sleep this morning? Jay said he saw you heading into the shower with Bruce’s mongo mug around two.”

Tim quieted and fiddled with the clasp on his bag. “A little. The coffee helped.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Uhhh, how exactly does caffeine _help_ one sleep, pray tell?”

Tim shrugged the bag onto his shoulder and turned towards the door. “It kept me laser-focused through the last of the reports, so I got through them in a flash, and then when it gave out I crashed like a stone so…” Tim gave a sheepish grin and another shrug. Dick shook his head.

“All right. Just promise me you’ll eat more than that shake and a couple pieces of fruit today, okay, little brother?”

Tim grinned wickedly. “Do chocolate-covered coffee beans count?”

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very first time I made a protein shake, I did indeed mix it with coffee - in my defense the label _did_ say “add to 14-16 ounces of your favorite beverage” - but I have to say the chocolate flavor was pretty awkward mixed with hazelnut-creme coffee. It was still better than when I tried mixing it with skim milk the next time x_x (Protein powder in general is vile). Vanilla and plain coffee sounds like it would be pretty okay though ;)
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/165009509401/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-2). Thanks for reading!


	5. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 3 (Tim & Damian)

“You’re an imbecile.”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Damian,” Drake replied, his voice muffled as he stuck his entire head into the open refrigerator. Damian pushed down the urge to tip the older boy forward and shut the door on his backside just to teach him a lesson about letting down his guard and obstructing his peripheral vision so carelessly.

“Todd told me about your shower stunt last night. Father won’t be happy that you used his secret mug,” Damian continued drily.

Drake emerged from the refrigerator with two Greek yogurts, a small salad, and a container of leftover steak in his hands. “What’s so secret about a mug that _everyone_ knows is his ‘secret’ mug? Anyway, I saw Bruce several times today and he said nothing to me about it, so I’m assuming he’s okay with me borrowing his stuff.”

Damian tsked. “He wouldn’t call you out in front of your subordinates; Father would never be so uncouth. But you’ve missed the point. It’s not a secret because he favors the mug; the mug is a secret from _you_ so that you will not be tempted to rid us of your presence via caffeine overdose.”

Drake frowned and turned to face Damian. “First of all, it’s next to impossible to overdose on caffeine by consuming coffee alone. Next, who told you that? Jason?”

“No. Grayson. And Pennyworth confirmed it,” Damian admitted, specifically omitting that they had made the comments earlier that day in somewhat jesting tones of voice. Drake raised his eyebrows. “Grayson mentioned that Father favored the mug during his and Todd’s respective times as Robin, but quickly retired it to the back of the cabinet once he’d discovered your unhealthy addiction.” Damian cocked a head in Drake’s direction, with a wry grin. “After all, it _is_ said that the caffeine levels present in coffee will stunt your growth.”

Drake glared back icily and shook his head as he spread his food across the countertop and started pulling utensils from drawers. It appeared he was planning to eat at the counter, standing up, like the impatient heathen he was. Another unhealthy habit to add to the growing pile.

“That’s just an old wives’ tale, Damian. I’m on the shorter side,” Drake paused to open one of the yogurts with his teeth, like a slob, while he opened the other with a single hand, “because my father and grandfathers were too. Genes. Not caffeine.”

Damian opened his mouth to retort, then paused as he noticed the labels on the yogurt. “Wait. Is that coffee-flavored yogurt?”

Drake nodded as he scooped the first bite into his mouth. Damian cringed.

“That sounds vile.”

“To each their own.”

Damian’s eyes widened as he took in the rest of the food. “And is that the coffee-rubbed steak from the other night?”

Drake shrugged. “It was good; sue me.”

“I reiterate: you are an imbecile. Do you not know how to consume a single meal without collateral caffeine intake?”

“The salad doesn’t have any coffee in it. And I’m pretty sure the yogurt is decaf; I just like how it tastes.”

Damian shook his head. “You’re still an imbecile and you have a problem.” Drake shrugged and pulled out his phone in a vain attempt to ignore him. “I’d be shocked if you so much as managed to get through a single meal without coffee in it somewhere.”

Damian turned and trod soundlessly toward the exit, leaving Drake to his coffee-themed excuse for a meal. He paused at the door. “Promise me you will at least avoid vibrating off some ledge tonight?”

Tim looked up from his phone and food and shot Damian an infuriating grin. “Careful, Dami; you almost sound as if you care.”

“-Tt-. Of course I care; why would I waste breath speaking to you about it if I didn’t?” Damian shot back hotly. Drake blinked, speechless. Damian nodded, satisfied his point had been made, then marched out the door without a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing from Damian's perspective; I almost feel like I should be ashamed of how easy it was for me to slip into his mindset and mode of speech.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/165052904936/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-3). Thanks for reading!


	6. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 4 (Tim & Batfam)

“Master Tim, have you eaten any supper?”

“Uh, no, I’ve been working all evening,” Tim responded, wilting slightly under Alfred’s stern glare, “and I’m in a hurry to get out to patrol now, but I ate a pretty late lunch so…” Tim shrugged as Alfred sighed.

“How late is ‘late’?” Dick queried as he and Jason wandered over from the motor pool; Dick had asked Jason to come over and help him with his bike before patrol otherwise it would have been strange to see Jason lurking in the manor so early - he liked to sneak in when he thought Bruce was least likely to be around so he could chat with Alfred, sneak cookies, and spar just about anyone other than Bruce.

“And how much lunch was in that 'lunch’?” Jason added with a laugh. Tim frowned at each of them in turn then deliberately moved deeper into the cave, heading toward his locker to suit up.

“Jeez. I ate eight ounces of yogurt, a serving and a half of salad, and the rest of that steak from the other night. That enough for you guys?” Tim didn’t dare glance over his shoulder to catch their responses, but he heard a considering hum from Alfred and a “that’s a start” from Dick. Jason on the other hand sidled in close, leaned up against the locker beside his, and peered into Tim’s face, giving him no way to ignore the followup question.

“Yeah, that’s good, tiny Timmy. But, again, how 'late’ was this late lunch?”

Tim mumbled an answer under his breath as he pulled his gear from the locker, slammed it shut, and sped away. Dick gave him a puzzled look as he passed.

“I didn’t hear that, Babybird, what was that?” Jason repeated, following behind him like an oversized, armor-and-gun clad mother hen.

“I SAID,” Tim started loudly, whirling around to get into Jason’s face and shrinking back when he almost ran right into Dick and Jason, both looking exasperated almost the point of annoyance. “Three o'clock,”  he finished lamely.

Dick sighed dramatically and covered his face with both hands while Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Timmers, it’s eleven pm. That was eight hours ago. And you probably won’t eat much when you get back from patrol either. Just,” Jason paused, took a deep breath and spread his hands, palms out, soothingly. “Just take five minutes and eat a snack, okay?”

Tim shook his head. “I already did. I grabbed a frozen yogurt bar on my way down, I grabbed an apple for later, and I’ve got a soft bottle with protein shake in it in my belt. I’m telling you: I’ve got it covered.”

Jason almost seemed convinced until Damian strode by, pulling on his Robin gloves, and added his bit. “I can confirm that Drake did, in fact, eat a frozen yogurt bar, however, regrettably, it was one of those ‘real espresso’ ones.” Tim grimaced at the younger boy’s back and winced at Alfred’s sigh from across the cave. Damian called back over his shoulder, “I told you that you couldn’t make it through a meal without coffee in it somewhere. Imbecile.”

“You mixed the protein shake with coffee again, didn’t you,” Dick interjected in a flat tone, pulling the collapsible bottle from Tim’s belt while Tim was still distracted by Damian. It wasn’t even a question, Dick was that sure of the answer.

Tim flung his suit and gear over his shoulder so he could grab for the pouch with both hands, but Dick deftly danced out of reach. In the same moment Bruce swept into the cave proper, his suit on but the cowl down. Jason stiffened as Bruce stepped up beside him to watch the spectacle unfold.

“Dick, nooooooooo! I mean, yeah, I used coffee again, but it’s patrol, you know! I need to stay awake! So I need the coffee so I won’t fall asleep on some random rooftop again!”

“Whaddyou mean again?!” Dick asked, horrified. Bruce chose that moment to intervene and save Tim from Dick’s well-intentioned wrath.

“It’s only happened a few times.”

“Ha! See, Dick? I’m can take ca-”

“The most notable occurring during the occasion when Robin snuck out to the infected zone while still convalescing from his brush with the Clench,” Bruce added with a half-amused, half-disapproving side eye.

“Selina promised me she’d keep that to herself,” Tim muttered in a low voice, looking mortified under his mentor’s stare.

“She kept her promise.”

“Then how-? Oh, yeah - _Batman_ \- right.”

“In any case,” Bruce continued, in a carrying tone so that Alfred and Damian would hear as well, “I’ll take _that_.” Bruce lifted the travel bottle out of Dick’s hands then handed Tim a new, clear container filled with water.

“Tim, you need to drink more water on patrol anyway. If nothing else, choose naturally energizing sports drinks over caffeinated beverages that will only dry you out.”

Tim nodded concedingly and stored the water in his belt. Dick nodded approvingly.

“And to supplement your non-coffee food supply, I recommend these protein bars,” Bruce passed several foiled-sealed packages to Tim, conveniently concealing the labels with his large hands. Tim studied the bars briefly while Jason peered suspiciously over Bruce’s shoulder and then quickly stuffed them into various pouches of his bandolier.

“Thanks, B. I’ll set myself a reminder to take some breaks to eat those.”

“Good,” Bruce nodded, pulling up his cowl. “Suit up. Robin and I will be rolling out in five, I expect to see Red Robin and Nightwing over at First National no later than zero-hundred hours to coordinate on the bank surveillance for the Penguin-Poison Ivy joint heists case.”

“Understood,” Tim and Dick responded together, moving off to finish preparing for patrol. Batman turned to head toward the motor pool, but Jason caught his shoulder.

“Hey, was it just me, B, or did those bars you pushed on Red say 'contains caffeine’ on the wrapper?” Jason asked in a low, dry tone.

“They’re caffeinated with green tea extract. That’s still better than coffee,” Batman justified tersely before pulling away and sweeping over to the Batmobile with a low summons to Robin. Jason shook his head and stuffed the red hood onto his head as he followed, stomping over to his bike.

“I’m still gonna cover the remaining patrol routes with Blondie and Cass, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye on Red too when I get a chance,” Jason called over to Bruce. Batman acknowledged with a quiet nod - the universally acknowledged Bruce-speak for “cool, thanks” - before taking off with Robin into the night.

“What was that I heard about 'Red’?” Tim asked, striding over into the motor pool all suited up and ready to roll.

Jason shook his head. “Nothing. I dunno.” Jason sighed. “Just… promise me you’ll skip the ‘shower-coffee’ tonight and you’ll get more than three hours of sleep, ‘kay?”

Tim grinned as he pulled the cowl over his head and then straddled his bike. “Does a rooftop nap coun-”

“NO!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is an enabler; we all know he treats his sleep dep with copious amounts of coffee and stubborn grit too ;) Coffee chocolate chip frozen yogurt bars are a thing and I am OBSESSED with them; the last time I let myself eat more than two at a time I stayed up all night, wrote an 8,500 word JayTim Week entry and then watched the sun rise. It was a good night/morning :)
> 
> The part about Tim falling asleep on a roof actually happens in Robin #28, part 11 of the "Contagion" crossover event that happened back in the mid-90s run of the comics.
> 
> That's all for "Coffee, Coffee Everywhere"...for now.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/165101017127/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-4). Thanks for reading!


	7. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 5 (Tim & Batfam)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t expect to be writing for the "Coffee, Coffee" drabble series again so soon but then I caught wind of the impromptu **#batfamcontentwar** on tumblr happening today and this fluffy not-really-a-drabble was born. Enjoy!

Tim nearly tripped as he walked down the many steps into the Batcave, multicolored liquids sloshing around in their mugs and spoons rattling on the tray he carried carefully in both hands.

Jason looked up at the sound and cursed.

"Holy balls, Timbo, did you make yourself enough coffee or what? I thought I told you to skip the post-patrol coffee tonight!"

Tim made a face and shook his head as he descended the final few stairs and delicately set the tray on the workbench upon which Alfred often liked to set out their evening refreshments.

They'd all just come in from patrol and it had been a relatively busy night. They'd made a major bust on the Penguin-Poison Ivy joint bank heists case, and then Jason and the gals had called them in on a bit of excitement down on the docks with a warehouse full of bad drugs and the inept meth makers that had blown it all sky high - drugs that, for once, had _not_ gone kaboom because the Red Hood had decided to blow them up himself. Alfred had been at the comms when Red Robin had skipped the fireworks at the docks and come in early - on his _own_ call, he should mention - and Tim had taken that as his chance to sneak up to the kitchen to make a little something special for everyone.

"What about eight separate mugs on a tray says to you that this all for me, Hood? Jeez, gimme a break."

Jason raised an eyebrow as he stripped off his gloves and drifted over. "Okay, then. Well, why don't you enlighten us, _Red Robin_ ; how is this not what _seems_ to be your normal daily allotment of caffeine on a single tray?"

Tim shook his head as the other members of the family drifted over as well, wearing expressions that varied from alarmed curiosity - Alfred - to outright concern - Dick - to irritable wariness - Damian. Bruce, who pulled the cowl down and hovered closely behind Dick like an overly-dramatic shadow, was the only person who didn't show an emotion on his face, but there was a twinkle in his eyes Tim knew to be amusement - leave it to _the Batman_ to guess his scheme even if Tim was pretty sure he hadn't dropped them any clues on his way in earlier.

"Well, first of all, this isn't coffee," Tim began, sweeping a hand over the variety mugs filled with clear liquids of many colors ranging from the palest of greenish-yellows to the blackest of blacks. "These are all tea."

Jason threw his hands up in the air. "If you're trying to prove to us that you're turning over a new leaf, _no pun intended, dammit_ " - Dick smirked like a dick at the pun anyway - "Timbo, then you need to do better than replacing your six cups of caffeine-rich coffee with eight cups of nearly-as-caffeinated tea. Though I do give you bonus points for mixing up the varieties."

Tim sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he shook his head. "Jason, just...no. You're missing the point; these aren't all for me - wow, no, if I tried to drink that much liquid in a single sitting, caffeinated or not, I'd probably stay up all night just peeing it all out again."

Damian laughed out loud before he could whip a hand up to cover his mouth, and everyone, Tim included, turned to stare at him in disbelief. Damian coughed, turning faintly pink beneath his dark, olive complexion, and then redirected for the life of him as everyone continued gaping at the unexpected break in his normal holier-than-thou demeanor.

"So you made us tea, Drake. That isn't enough of an explanation. _Why_ did you make us tea?" Damian bit out, embarrassment setting an edge to Damian's words that was at odds with the honest interest Tim read in his eyes.

"Tea? You called us back here for _tea_ , Tim?" Stephanie laughed out as she and Cass approached from the motor pool, decked out in their full Batgirl and Black Bat garbs respectively. "Are we having a tea party?" she teased. Cass smirked quietly and peered toward the teas with interest. Tim watched her hone in on her favorite variety in an instant.

He laughed and scratched at the back of his head. Well, actually… "Yes and no, Steph," Tim answered with a laugh and blush of his own. Jason opened his mouth again with a little frown, and Dick leaned forward like he might say something, too, but for each to make some comment or ask another hasty question, they would never know, because Tim cut them all off with an exaggerated wave of his hands.

"Okay, okay! Everyone just give me a second to explain," Tim cried. Silence settled over the group and Tim waited until he had seven pairs of intrigued eyes on him before continuing.

"Okay. So. I know it's started to get around that I do weird stuff like take mugs of coffee into the shower with me - and I _do_ ," Tim admitted quickly to stave off whatever support a frowning Damian looked like he wanted to throw in for the accusations. "I also know some of you have registered concern over this new manifestation of my apparent obsession with coffee," he added, nodding to Dick who merely shook his head with a long-suffering grin in return.

"So I wanted to make it clear to you guys that that _isn't_ something I usually do with coffee, but do frequently with other, _healthier_ drinks. Actually I've been doing it almost every night after patrol for _years_ with water and sports drinks and Bruce even knows it; he does it, too, now." All eyes flew to Bruce for a moment and he simply shrugged with the ghost of a grin on his face. Tim smiled and continued.

"Actually, it's a great way to cool off and rehydrate after a long, hot patrol. Or if it was more of a 'long, cold stakeout' sort of night, then a cup of tea or hot chocolate in a hot shower is the best way to warm up again," he explained. Alfred and Damian both nodded faintly, their faces mirror images of mild approval.

"And, really, taking a hot drink into the shower is one of the best ways to unwind I've ever tried," Tim admitted, a grin sneaking its way onto his face as he considered his next statement. "It helps me get to sleep on nights when I have trouble slowing down and turning off my brain."

Jason blinked and Dick gaped. Yes, he did just admit that he occasionally _tried_ to sleep, rather than consistently avoid and abhor sleep as everyone seemed to think. He didn't _dislike_ sleeping, but that was a topic to explain another night [[*](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12007035/chapters/27169404)]. For now…

"But don't take my word for it: tonight, just as you requested, Jason, I _will_ be skipping the coffee and the reports and heading to bed 'early'," Tim explained. He lifted a mug of brownish-yellow liquid with a tantalizing scent from the tray and gestured toward the showers. "I even made myself a cup of DECAF peppermint tea to take into the shower to get myself nice and sleepy before I head up," Tim added, waving the mug past the assembled Batfam so they could all see the clearly not-coffee liquid inside. He smirked when Damian leaned forward for a subtle sniff and laughed out loud when Jason actually stole the mug from his fingers to taste it, tilting the mug toward Dick with an confirming nod once he had.

"I also made everyone else a cup of their favorite tea, too, so they could try it out with me," Tim continued with a smile, gesturing down to the tray.

"For Damian, I made his favorite Silver Needle white tea - pale, subtle, and almost caffeine-less" - Damian nodded with a faintly pleased expression, took the delicate looking tea cup filled with a pale yellow liquor to which Tim pointed, and sipped it gingerly. He muttered a "not bad" and shot Tim an appreciative nod. Tim grinned and continued.

"For Alfred, I made a strong cuppa his favorite PG Tips" - Alfred broke composure to smile warmly at Tim, clearly pleased Tim had noticed the secret tea Alfred squirreled away for himself on those nights when he just needed _something_ for himself.

"For Cass I made her beloved premium grade Formosa oolong that smells like flowers, tastes like shampoo, but somehow still manages to taste good. Especially with marshmallows, come to find out…" - Cass smiled beatifically at him and scooped up the tea before he could even point to it. She paused only to peck him on the cheek before spiriting away towards the lockers.

"For Steph I made wild berry oolong - you'll like it, it's purple and fruity, just like you" - he dodged her slap but stood still for the smooch she planted on his cheek as she leaned in for the white mug decorated with numerous eggplant emojis containing fuchsia liquid - "and for Dick I made this 'chocolate shake' Ceylon tea plus real-cacao-and-chocolate-nibs blend - you'll need to add milk to get the flavor to come out, though, just like with all your damn cereal."

"And a little sugar," Dick added with a wink as he took the black and blue Nightwing mug and dumped an entire teaspoon in without missing a beat. Jason made a face and Damian tsked. Alfred merely shook his head.

"For Jason," Tim continued, waiting until Jason looked up again from Dick's ‘ruined’ tea, "I made his nighttime favorite, Japanese _houji-cha_ , roasted green tea" - Jason hummed approvingly and lifted the large, handleless coil-formed ceramic mug that was filled with an amber-orange liquid for appraisal. That tea was a favorite of Tim's, too, for - surprise, surprise - the toasty notes of coffee and chocolate that sometimes run through a particularly good brew. Jason hummed in approval at the first sip.

By this point most of the family started drifting towards the showers, Damian pulling Dick away from the sugar bowl wearing a offended, disgusted expression, while Steph made a beeline for Cass's locker, leaving Alfred, Jason, Tim and Bruce to linger over the last mug.

"And last but not least, I made an extra large mug of extra bold organic pu-erh and yerba mate blend for B," Tim concluded, quickly passing the steaming mug into Bruce's still-gauntleted hands. Jason and Alfred frowned, recognizing the name of the dark, highly-caffeinated brew, and Tim quickly mouthed "GO" to a visibly amused Bruce, who took the cue and swept away with a swirl of the Batcape. Jason shook his head at the retreating Bat, and Alfred tsked and sent a mildly disapproving glare toward Tim who merely shrugged with an abashed grin and set about cleaning up the tray.

By the time Alfred had taken his tea and followed after his employer, Tim had replaced his mug on the tray and was headed back toward the stairs, intending to take his shower in the peace and quiet of his room. Jason stopped him just as he was mounting the first stair up to the manor.

"You headed up then?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna clean up the tray and then I'm going up to shower and then to bed."

"Good." Jason smiled softly. "But you better watch out, Dick is sure to climb in after you to snuggle his thanks for all of this. And wherever he goes, Damian is sure to follow. You better be ready for a proper 'Robin-pile' in your bed tonight, Timmers."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, I expect Steph will probably sneak in as well, and wherever _she_ goes Cass is sure to follow. That's okay; my bed here is big enough for all of us." Tim paused and looked up to gauge Jason's expression. "Will we see you there tonight?"

Jason let out a put-upon sigh, scrubbed a single hand through his ruffled helmet hair, and stared into his tea consideringly. After a long moment he looked up with the ghost of a grin and toasted Tim with the mug.

"Maybe, Babybird. Does it count if no one is awake to see me come in or awake to see me leave again?"

\---

 _(Bonus: In the end, they_ did _end up all piling into Tim's bed - to cuddle, yes, but also to make sure Tim slept that night as he said he would. Surprisingly, Steph and Cass showed up together just before Dick arrived, but predictably Damian showed up - grumbling - less than five minutes after that, hesitant to get in with them up until the point that Dick dragged him in. Then, shockingly, he snuggled up easily_ between _his two older brothers and then fell asleep nearly instantly. Jason didn't sneak in until well after the last person drifted off, and extracted himself from the pile long before the sun rose, but Tim, being the light sleeper that he is, woke briefly during Jason's visit, just long enough to see by the light from the door Bruce had cracked to look in on them - like the sneaktastic Batdad that he is - the white tuft of Jason's streak sticking straight up as he snuggled up behind Cass and Steph. All in all, Tim slept snugly sandwiched between Jason, Cass, and Steph on his right and Damian and Dick on his left, and it was a snuggly, restful Batfam sandwich indeed.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Liquor" in a tea context is used to describe the flavorful liquid obtained from steeping tea leaves in water (if you don't believe me just look at the definitions here <http://www.teausa.org/14656/glossary-of-terms>).
> 
> Also, I usually avoid naming specific brands in my fics, but PG Tips is my father's preferred brand of English black tea, so I have fond memories of it and felt it would be a good fit as Alfred's favorite too :')
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/165258568211/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-5). Thanks for reading!


	8. Lips Like Chocolate (StephTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Steph are in their pre-n52 Robin and Spoiler era - roughly between the ages of 15-17 - in this, so I'll tentatively warn for **underage** here, even though they never make it past the making out stage.

"Ugggh, I wanna nibble on some chocolate so _bad_ right now, but I'm trying to cut back," Steph moaned, leaning her face into Tim's shoulder. Tim nodded absentmindedly. They lay side by side on their stomachs on Steph's bed, Steph flipping idly through her history textbook while Tim tapped away at his bulky laptop, working on some essay or report or something.

"You know they say it helps to use a distraction," Steph added, "to replace the thing you're craving with some low-calorie substitute." She nibbled on her lip thoughtfully. "But I haven't figured out what in the world would be as satisfying as chocolate…"

Tim's fingers slowed and he turned his head toward Steph slowly, a slight twinkle to his eye the only give-away beneath his impassive expression. "You know… you could always nibble on me instead," he quipped, twinkle growing into a teasing grin. Steph laughed.

"You know," she said, letting her voice drop low and smokey, "that's not such a bad idea."

Tim's grin turned into a genuine smile of affection as Steph leaned in to press her lips to his, pecking once or twice to warm him up before nipping lightly at his upper lip. He shut his laptop and rolled onto his side to face her. Steph rolled as well and sat up, leaning over and into him to deepen the kiss.

Tim responded readily, lips parting slightly to allow Steph to suck on his lip. She took the lead, sucking and pressing full mouthed kisses over his pliant lips.

Tim's snuck up to Steph's messy bun, gently tugging at the tie. Steph made a displeased noise when the hair snagged and pulled at her scalp. Tim jumped back at the sound and then forward again to press apologetic kisses to the corner of her mouth, nose, and forehead as his hand rubbed at her scalp.

They paused their makeout session for the few seconds it took him to carefully extract the rubber band, at which point Steph herself ran a hand up into her long blond hair, fluffing it up with a grateful moan.

Tim's hand chased hers, sinking into her hair and running soothing strokes back from her temple. Steph leaned into it for a moment then leaned forward to capture Tim's lips again, sucking at them voraciously.

Tim moaned and let his hand sink to cup the base of her skull and tenderly massage the back of her head in time with the action of her lips. Steph wiggled closer, pressing her hips flush to his, running her hand over his obliques into the small of his back to keep him close. Tim groaned into her mouth and Steph smiled into the kiss, keeping up the pressure, waiting for the carefully controlled boy to crack.

She rubbed small circles into the tight muscles of his lower back and laved her tongue against his lips. She snuck her free foot up to run up and down Tim's calve and ankle and leaned her hips into him further.

Finally, Tim's lips broke open to pant against hers right around the same moment Steph felt _something_ poke against her pelvic region, and she went in for the figurative kill with a devilish grin, licking her way into his mouth with a vengeance. Tim met her kiss for kiss, his tongue wrestling with hers for a time before they both pulled away to gasp for breath as if they'd sprinted the mile together.

Steph grinned, sated for the moment, and leaned forward to press light pecks to his cheeks, temple, and forehead. Tim panted into her neck. She felt his hips twitch, felt him shifting back minutely in a vain attempt to hide his growing 'problem', and she had to fight down the urge to roll her hips into his to tease him further - they weren't looking to go _there_ tonight, certainly not with her mother across the hall for Pete's sake.

Steph shifted minutely herself, wincing internally at the warm, gooey feeling springing to life between her legs. To wind things down she ghosted her hand up Tim's side and ran her hand up into his hair to cup the back of his head, mirroring the way he cupped hers, and pressed a long, affection smooch to his forehead. She inhaled the scent of Tim - soothing shampoo, dark leather, woodsy deodorant, hot skin - and exhaled in a long, contented sigh through her nose.

Tim was still breathing in short, hot puffs against her neck, but his thumb rubbed slow, calming circles on the the side of her neck. Steph shifted her lips to his temple and waited for them to both come down together, trying very hard not to let her thoughts drift to what she and Tim would probably do in their respective showers later, after Tim went home for the night.

Once their breathing evened out, Steph pressed one last kiss to his temple then spoke.

"You know what?"

"What?"

Steph leaned back, waiting until Tim's eyes opened to meet her stare.

"I think it worked. Kissing you is as satisfying as eating chocolate."

Tim laughed and rolled away onto his back. "Good to know I'm better than chocolate."

Steph snorted.

"Hey, now, I never said 'better'…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/165386203721/lips-like-chocolate). Thanks for reading!


	9. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 6 (Tim & Jason & Damian)

"Very good, Master Tim. Now, very slowly, add the blend of granulated sugar and instant coffee we set aside earlier and add it to the mixtu- SLOWLY, now, slowly - and beat until all the sugar and coffee has dissolved and the mixture forms stiff, glossy peaks."

"Like this, Alfred?"

"Exactly, Master Tim, nice and steady; blend it in evenly…"

Jason poked his head into the manor's kitchen and spotted Alfred and Tim leaning over an electric stand mixer near the sinks, their backs to him.

"Hey, Alfred. Timbo" - they glanced over their shoulders and acknowledged Jason's greeting with nods - "Have you guys seen Damian yet? He asked me to help him out with something this afternoon."

"No, not yet, I'm afraid, Master Jason. Master Dick volunteered to pick up Master Damian this afternoon, but we have yet to see either of them," Alfred replied, the quizzical lift of his brow asking without words the nature of this 'help' Damian had requested. Jason didn’t elaborate.

"However, they should be along shortly now that classes have long since ended for the day,” Alfred assured him. Jason nodded. Alfred stared him down, awaiting the explanation, but Jason looked away. Alfred sighed.

"It is quite unusual for for young Master Damian to request assistance; might I inquire as to what kind of assistance he has requested of you?" he finally asked directly, using that deceptively mild tone he often used when dealing with stubborn Bats. _“What kind of assistance does Damian require that he would ask it of **you** rather than myself or Master Dick?”_ was the question he knew Alfred was really asking.

Jason grimaced. "Sorry, Alfie. I'm not at liberty to say; the kid asked me to keep this between me and him" - Alfred frowned - "but I can promise you that it has nothing to do with our, uh, 'after-school activities' and everything to do with his for-school assignments."

What Jason didn't say was that for all that Damian liked to act as if he was better than the rest of them - speaking down to them in that snobby, formal way of his; training and operating as Robin as if he had nothing to learn from his elders; and lording his status as blood son over them like a spoiled prince - Jason understood that Damian was largely insecure and uncertain over his worth and place in their strange little crime-fighting family.

In his own way - a way that involved fewer words and more glaring and blushing while Jason guessed the truth from between the lines of his strange requests - Damian had admitted to him that he felt too ashamed and intimidated to ask for help from most of the family, particularly from the people he was trying to impress the most - his father, Alfred, Dick. Particularly Tim.

Really, as much as Damian tried to pretend he considered Tim an inferior predecessor, Jason could tell from the way Damian acted toward and spoke of Tim during those rare moments when he forgot to put conscious effort toward 'despising' him that Damian was in awe of the elder Robin. He was in awe of all of them, to a degree, and felt severe pressure to live up to the level skill, intelligence, and accomplishment of those who came before him.

Anxious to prove himself and taught by his unconventional upbringing to avoid showing weakness at all costs, Damian inflated his abilities with arrogant bravado and avoided asking for help as if the act itself would kill him.

One of the things Damian refused to admit he struggled with: the English language. For all that he was proficient enough to toss around SAT words like an overbearing English teacher, Damian still struggled with the reading and comprehension of more archaic usages. For example, the early modern English from Damian's eighth grade English reading assignments.

It had all started when Damian's teacher had assigned readings from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Damian had eventually made his way to Jason, requesting "someone with which to discuss the subtexts." When asked, Damian had claimed that he'd come to Jason because he'd known that Jason had a “fondness and aptitude for the study of literature, particularly Shakespeare's works.” However, it had been clear to Jason no more than twenty minutes into their first ‘discussion’ that Damian had mainly come to him because he had been struggling to understand the text itself, any and all subtexts aside.

Jason had taken the unspoken request in stride and adapted to the needs of the situation - casually weaving explanations into the conversation alongside his commentaries. Damian seemed to appreciate the subtle explanations and followed up eagerly with questions and increasingly insightful commentary.It followed naturally, then, that when Damian's teacher had gone on to assign them _Hamlet_ , Damian had immediately sought out Jason for further ‘discussions’.

Jason didn't mind. He enjoyed the chance to discuss the literature again - it had been a long time since he and Alfred had last sat down to talk Shakespeare together - and he could faintly tell that Damian was coming to enjoy the works, too, now that he could understand the text and he had other perspectives to consider.

Above all, Jason was coming to appreciate Damian's perspectives as much as Damian seemed to be enjoying his. They were… _getting along_ and getting closer in ways Jason had never imagined would be possible for them, and, somehow - _surprisingly_ \- that ended up being the thing Jason valued from their discussions the most. Never thought he’d get close to the demon brat, but there it was.

Jason chuckled to himself. Now they just needed to find something to bring Tim and Damian together like that.

Alfred cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, cutting through Jason's thoughts. "Very well. I suppose I'll have to ask Master Damian myself should I want the details on these 'for-school assignments'."

Fat chance that line of questioning would go anywhere; Jason was pretty sure the main reason Damian asked him over anyone else was because he was too embarrassed to admit to "Pennyworth" - a former _Shakespearean actor_ , for pete's sake - that he was struggling with Shakespearean English. But good luck to ol' Alfie in any case.

Alfred turned back to Tim and the mixing bowl. "I trust you can handle the recipe from here, Master Tim?"

Tim's head whipped around quickly. He looked alarmed at the thought of being left alone at the mixer, but he nodded in the affirmative, nonetheless, even as he side eyed the frothy meringue as if it might explode at any second.

"Very good. In that case I'll pop out to see if I might catch word of Masters Dick and Damian's progress, and perhaps track down their father, bless me," Alfred informed them. He patted Jason's shoulder as he brushed past him on his way out of the kitchen.

"It's good to see you here, Master Jason. In fact, we might as well take advantage of having everyone under one roof this evening to sit down for a long-overdue family dinner, don't you say?"

Jason grimaced, but nodded assent to the fond, but firm 'suggestion' from the elderly butler. It was an unintended consequence of his visit, but there would be no arguing with Alfred once he got that determined look in his eyes. Alfred patted his shoulder one last time and bustled out of the kitchen.

Jason sighed, then turned at the sound of low muttering coming from across the room. Jason approached and took up Alfred's previous position on the other side of the mixer across from Tim, who stared intensely into the whirling mixture.

"So you're making meringue?" Jason questioned quietly, doing his best not to startle the hyper-focused young man.

Tim grimaced and nodded.

"What's brought this on?"

Tim sighed, eying the mixer settings and fiddling with a knob. "Someone introduced me to these fantastic vanilla chocolate chip meringue cookies a few years back, and it's been in the back of my mind to try out making them, but adapt the recipe to add coffee into them somewhere as well," he explained. He frowned and fiddled with the knob again.

"Coffee chocolate chip? As in real coffee? With caffeine?"

Tim nodded and Jason sighed. "At this point I don't even know why it surprises me anymore,” Jason commented drily, shaking his head. The corners of Tim’s mouth twitched upwards, but he didn’t take his eyes off the fluffy batter. Jason blinked. “And Alfred is on board with this?" he asked incredulously. Apparently on-board enough to teach Tim how to make french meringue in the first place, it would seem. Good grief.

Tim nodded absently, his attention wholly fixed on the meringue. "Alfred…thinks the instant coffee we added...was decaffeinated," Tim informed him, gesturing blindly over his shoulder toward the pantry containing the coffee in question. "Because…"

Tim trailed off completely and stopped the mixer. He lifted the beaters and frowned as strings of beaten egg, sugar, and apparently _not_ decaffeinated coffee sank back into the mixture almost immediately. "Hey, do you think this is beaten enough to be called 'stiff peaks'?"

Jason laughed out loud and rounded the mixer to glance at Tim's settings. He shook his head. "Nah, Timbo, you gotta beat 'em a little more vigorously than that." Jason turned the knob up to the highest speed and motioned for Tim to drop the beaters down again. Tim narrowed his eyes skeptically, but went along with it. Jason started the mixer up again and pulled Tim back a step with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"It'll take a couple of minutes at that speed before it'll get to 'stiff peaks'; just step back and let it happen, okay?”

Jason waited until Tim nodded, then continued. “We'll wanna check it often because we definitely don't want to overbeat it - we'll pull it just as soon as the peaks start to form - but, lemme tell ya, it takes more speed than you’d think your first time around," Jason assured him.

Tim frowned and opened his mouth to ask next obvious question, but Jason headed it off without missing a beat.

"And you'll know it's 'stiff peaks' when you pull the beaters out and it leaves little pointed mounds in the meringue that don't fall over or sink in immediately."

Jason chuckled to himself as Tim blinked and then mouthed a little 'o' as understanding lit up his eyes. "Y'know… peaks that are stiff," Jason teased him with a wink.

Tim nodded and looked relieved to have someone who seemed to know what they were doing helping him again, regardless of whether they did so teasingly or not.

They turned their attention back to the furiously whirring mixer. After a minute of silent watching, Jason decided it was time for a check and reached over to cut the power.

"Okay, Timbo. Go ahead and give it a check."

Tim nodded and lifted the beaters. It was almost there, still just a little soft. "Whaddya think?" Jason asked Tim with a little smile.

Tim bit his lip and deliberated silently. "Umm… I think maybe a little bit longer? There are peaks but they're not really staying up?"

Jason nodded and Tim beamed, then started up the mixer once more.

After another minute passed, Tim reached out stop the mixer on his own and checked without hesitation. Jason nodded approvingly. Tim considered the mixture, then turned to Jason with an expectant grin and Jason nodded back; the meringue was ready to be formed and baked.

Jason helped Tim gently fold the chocolate chips into the enormous batch, and then they quickly, but gently doled out individual cookies onto parchment-lined baking sheets. Jason finished off his tray and sidled over to help Tim finish his. He elbowed the younger man in the side lightly and grinned down at him.

"So, why does Alfie think these are decaf when I'm almost dead sure they're not?"

Tim grinned mischievously. "Alfred thinks they're decaf because he bought a sealed container of decaf instant coffee especially for this purpose and we cracked the seal on it together this afternoon."

Tim paused, set aside their tray, pulled a third over, and squinted at the door for a long moment before adding, "But what Alfred doesn't know is that I had already unsealed the instant coffee he bought, replaced it with instant regular, and then resealed it with an iron."

Jason blew out a deep sigh and shook his head. "Timothy…" - Tim shrugged and his grin tinged apologetic - "You've got a problem, man...”

It was at that moment that Damian strode into the kitchen, carrying a lunch box; clearly the kid had been unimpressed with his fancy school's fancy food and had asked Alfred for packed lunches - not that anyone in the family would blame him, since, you know, _Alfred's cooking_.

"What has Drake done now?" Damian asked imperiously as he removed the empty containers from the cooler and moved them to soak in the sink - clearly Alfred's influence had started to sink in, like it had for all of them, since Damian was cleaning up after himself without being asked or expecting someone else to do it for him.

Tim ignored the comment and went back to plopping dollops of meringue on the tray. "He convinced Alfie to teach him to make coffee-laced chocolate chip meringue cookies," Jason explained.

Damian hummed and approached their spread of trays. "That actually sounds tasteful, for once. I approve, Drake."

Tim raised his eyebrows at the kid and Jason tossed down his spoon and threw his hands into the air.

"Don't encourage him, Dames! Can you imagine what he'll start adding coffee to next if we start rewarding this behavior?" **  
**

Damian smirked. "I was merely suggesting that the addition of coffee to such a recipe seems appropriate, not that he should gorge himself on the product or continue adding coffee to anything that strikes his fancy."

Damian considered the blobs on the trays thoughtfully then nodded. "Coffee with the crisp, sweet texture of meringue should pair nicely with chocolate. It's a sound idea. They would taste quite pleasant, I would imagine."

Tim shot Damian a brief glance. "You're welcome to try them once they come out; they'll be ready right before patrol, probably," he offered in a low, cautious tone. Damian stared, then slowly nodded.

"I…would like that. Thank you."

An awkward silence hung between the three of them after that, Damian and Tim avoiding each other's glances while Jason's eyebrows rose up into his hair as he watched and waited for the catch. Just as Jason was about to clear his throat and suggest that he and Damian sneak off to work on Dami's homework - better to quit while they were ahead - Tim asked Damian in a quiet voice, "Would you like to help up divide this up onto the rest of the trays? The sooner we get them onto the trays and into the oven, the lighter and crisper they'll be, I'm told."

Jason whipped his head over to stare at Damian. An odd look passed over the kid's face, but to Jason's surprise, Damian nodded and retrieved Jason's spoon from the bowl.

"I'm stealing this spoon, Todd. You are blocking the silverware drawer with your large buttocks, so you can retrieve a replacement at your leisure," Damian informed him with a wry glance.

Jason stared, bamboozled at the sight of the two of them not only getting along - physically side-by-side - but also working together peacefully and _voluntarily_ toward a common, non-vigilante goal. It was a Tuesday afternoon miracle. He laughed out loud. Tim and Damian gave him nearly identical, coolly inquiring glances that had him laughing even harder.

When his mirth finally quieted, Jason sought out a spoon and all together they quickly finished off the last two trays. Jason and Tim each carried a tray in each hand while Damian carried the fifth and final tray and opened the oven doors so they could slide them in simultaneously.

With five trays of coffee chocolate-chip meringue cookies in the oven and the oven timers set, they moved on to cleaning up the bowl, spoons, and mixer parts at the sink. They easily settled into an assembly line of Tim scrubbing, Damian rinsing, and Jason drying that occasionally dissolved into indignant squawks and peals of laughter at moments such as when Jason snapped the towel at Damian for rinsing too slow and then Damian splashed Jason with water in retaliation. Dick walked in on them ganging up on Tim for laughing after Jason slipped on a patch of water and accidentally whipped Damian in the face.

"Hey, guys! Didn't know there was a party going down in the kitchen," Dick said, beaming at each of them. "What did I miss? Are you guys… washing dishes? What is that I smell cooking?"

Tim, Damian, and Jason froze as a unit, eyes darting to each other in quiet alarm. Should they tell Dick about the meringue?

 _Nooooooooooo…_ that would be a _terrible_ idea. A meringue cookie is essentially a fluffed up lump of pure sugar, more or less; if they told Dick they were making meringue cookies - with chocolate chips, no less - they'd be lucky if there were any cookies left by the time they left for patrol. Nightwing would be _unbearable_ \- super high-energy, frightful puns, and cheery hugs all around. That wouldn’t  even factor in the caffeine. So, yeah, nope. Not gonna happen. No.

"Ah, yeah, uh, no, I uhhh… was helping out Alfred with some dishes. We're gonna do a family dinner tonight so I thought he could use the extra help," Tim rambled, waving his hands and smiling way too wide. Jason winced internally at the weak cover story but went along with it merrily.

"Yeah. And then I came looking for Dami and jumped in on it. And then Dami found us. So… yeah."

Dick raised a puzzled eyebrow at their flustered explanation and swept his gaze over the kitchen. Jason felt a pang of alarm as Dick's gaze neared the wall of ovens, but Damian had already thought ahead and sidestepped slightly so that the ovens were blocked by his body as he slowly, calmly approached Dick.

"Yes, I had containers from my lunch which I needed to wash in any case," Damian informed Dick smoothly. "Now that we have all but finished, Todd, I require your assistance."

Damian promptly left the room, leaving Jason to shrug at Dick with an apologetic grin before he darted out to follow.

They barely made it to the grand staircase before Jason heard the sound of Dick's voice chasing after them. _"Waaaaait…Daaaami, what kind of 'assistance' is Jaybird giving you exactly? Dami? Damian?!"_

Jason grinned down at Damian, the kid smirked back at him, and then the two of them employed their considerable stealth training to streak up the stairs and through the hidden trapdoor to get to Jason's secret spot in the attic. Dick couldn't track them - they were too good for that - but once they were safely ensconced, they could plainly hear Dick calling for them like a whining puppy for almost a half an hour before Alfred finally dragged him away. Jason and Damian shared looks of satisfaction.

It looked like Damian's distraction helped them dodge the first Nightwing shaped bullet, and Jason's hiding spot helped them dodge the next, but Jason sure hoped Tim had a good plan for how to dodge the third bullet when those meringues finally came out of the oven.

After all the effort they put into making them, and all the personal progress they'd made coming together to make them, Jason hoped the three of them got a chance to enjoy them together, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened to these being drabbles? I got started in on the bonding and it all just kind of exploded. Oh well. I blame coffee... ;DDD
> 
> I've been making a version of coffee enhanced chocolate chip meringue cookies for years. They are an instant favorite with every person that has ever tried them - including people who are sworn coffee haters - and I've gotten more than one person completely addicted. If you're interested in trying them, here is a link to my recipe: <http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/meringue-recipe>. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND using decaf instant coffee; I made the switch after I gave myself heart palpitations a few times in row eating too many of the caffeinated ones at a time.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Like and reblog this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/166992958866/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-6). Thanks for reading!


	10. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 7 (Tim & Dick)

Dick waltzed into the manor’s kitchen, pausing in his pursuit of cereal when he spotted Tim over by the stove. He squinted over at the griddle Tim had placed across two burners.

“Hey, Tim! You making pancakes?”

Tim looked up and nodded. Dick glanced over at the clock. 2:09 a.m. Huh. Two a.m. pancakes? Dick shrugged internally. Pancakes would be a nice change of pace from his usual 2am cereal, if Timmy was in the sharing mood.

He drifted over to watch Tim pour out the next batch of four onto the hot griddle and sprinkle three to four chocolate chips onto each.

“Ohhhh, double chocolate chip, then?” Dick asked, noting the rich brown color of the batter.

Tim stiffened briefly then waggled a hand hesitantly. “Well, they’re chocolate chip but… coffee - not chocolate - batter.”

Dick blinked then groaned. “Tiiiiiiimmmyyyyy.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to think Jay was right about you having a problem. Are we going to have to stage an intervention?” Dick asked, half teasing and half serious.

Tim spared him a withering look before turning back to his now bubbling pancakes, methodically flipping them to cook the other sides.

“But seriously, Tim,” Dick continued, “Are these caffeinated? Please tell me you’re gonna sleep sometime tonight.”

Tim didn’t turn, but pointed over his shoulder toward the dry ingredients still spread across the massive central island. “The instant coffee I used says ‘decaffeinated’ and Alfred was the one who bought it for me to use, so that is the official answer I’m going with.”

Dick squinted at the container and then glanced back at Tim suspiciously, but didn’t question it. Instead he drifted over to the plate of finished cakes and considered the dark rounds skeptically. He pinched one between his thumb and pointer finger and lifted it gingerly.

“And how much of this 'decaf’ coffee did you cram in by chance?” Dick asked. He counted the cakes and estimated the remaining batter - it looked as if the final count would be about sixteen pancakes, and if he remembered his cheap instant coffees, you used about a teaspoon of instant granules per cup of coffee desired.

“Three tablespoons,” Tim answered curtly, flipping the newly finished cakes onto the plate.

Dick gaped. He pulled out his phone and quickly searched how many teaspoons were in a tablespoon and then how many decaf cups of coffee were equivalent to a single cup of regular. Threes, they were all a factor of threes: three teaspoons to a tablespoon; three cups of decaf to one cup of regular.

“Tim…” Dick moaned in dismay. Tim didn’t turn. “Dude, that’s the equivalent of three cups of regular coffee. If you only eat a third of those, you’ll still be consuming at least a regular cup’s worth of caffeine, not to mention the chocolate.” Dick frowned darkly and waved a threatening finger at Tim. “Don’t you dare try to eat more than half of those on your own; you’ll make yourself sick.”

Tim waved dismissively. “Chill, Dick. I was only going to eat four or five right now. I was going to save the rest for tomorrow morning.” He shot a quick glance at the floppy cake still pinched between Dick’s fingers. “And you’re welcome to try a few too, if you want,” Tim offered with a shrug.

Dick grimaced then considered the pancake. He shrugged and nibbled off a bite. It… wasn’t bad. Actually it didn’t taste very far off from the mocha chip ice cream and frozen yogurt bars that Tim favored, but Dick wasn’t ready to admit his approval of the flavor. Instead he grumbled under his breath dramatically.

“Ugh. If these didn’t have chocolate in them, I wouldn’t so much as look at them…”

Tim grinned triumphantly, in any case, and doled out the next four cakes. He reached for the chocolate chips again. On the first cake, four chips dropped into a tight cluster in the center; on the next, there were only two and they were both on one edge.

“Jeez, Tim, you’re awful at chippin’ them” - Tim shrugged - “Here, you give me the chocolate; I’ll take care of that part, you worry about pouring and flipping them.”

So that was how Dick ended up aiding and abetting Tim’s infamous coffee-obsession; he 'chipped’ while Tim flipped, and then before they knew it they had a fine stack of steaming pancakes. While Tim finished off the last set, Dick put away the dry goods and moved dirtied bowls and spoons to the sink to soak. He poured out two large glasses of milk, pulled out plates, forks and a can of whipped cream - there was no way in hell he was letting syrup of any kind near those insomnia cakes, no matter how much he personally liked sugary foods; the caffeine buzz would be bad enough, they didn’t need a sugar high on top of it - and set places for them at the island.

Tim turned off the burners, brought the serving plate to the table, and for a few minutes they shared the sweet treat together, discussed the nights they’d had, and generally had a peaceful, quiet moment together.

It was nice. They hadn’t had enough chances to sit down and hang lately, and, honestly, Dick missed it. It made him think of the years when Tim had been 'just’ Robin - not Red Robin - and he had been 'just’ Nightwing - not sometimes Batman, sometimes more - and things had just been simpler, even if it hadn’t felt that way at the time.

Dick smiled. They needed to do things like this more often. He needed his little brother back again.

Abruptly, Tim rose, cracking a massive yawn - how even; what was this boy’s caffeine tolerance anyway - and reached for the plate of remaining pancakes. A sudden thought occurred to Dick and he grimaced.***

“You gonna put those away then?”

Tim nodded, but Dick rose and followed him in any case.

“You better. I’m watching you, babybird,” Dick warned him with a comically wide stink eye. Tim laughed out loud and covered the plate with a jealous arm in similar jest. “Don’t let me catch you trying to sneak any of these into the shower with you.”

Tim made a face and gagged. “Eww. What the hell, Dick. That sounds awful. Why would I do that? That is a terrible idea.” Tim shuddered and stared at Dick in scandalized disbelief.

Dick merely shrugged. “With you it’s hard to say what’s a 'terrible’ idea or not. After the coffee in the shower…” Dick shrugged again. Tim shook his head.

“No. Coffee in the shower makes sense - liquids with liquids. Food in the shower is altogether horrifying and Alfred would have my head if he had to clean soggy pancake out of the drains in the morning. Absolutely not.”

Dick nodded approvingly. “Fair enough. Just promise me you’ll never apply your mad genius to skipping the mug and showering in hot coffee itself.”

Tim stared. “Dick. That…” Tim shook his head, mouth moving soundlessly. Dick laughed, giving away the jest, and ducked when Tim hurled on of the pancakes at his head like one of Red Robin throwing discs.

“Screw you, Dick. I’d never…” - Tim trailed off as Dick shot him another exaggerated look of doubt and a shrug then tossed back his head and laughed before he ducked another projectile pancake - “Just… NO!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: the coffee was _not_ decaf. Tim actually added the equivalent of nine cups of coffee to his pancakes, and assuming each person might eat six of them in a stack, that is the equivalent of drinking three cups of coffee in about ten minutes… O_O
> 
> The recipe Tim used (and abused) can be found here: <http://preventionrd.com/2014/01/coffee-pancakes/>. Needless to say, I highly advocate following the printed amounts and _alwaaaaays_ use decaf coffee in baking. Your body will thank you.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/167535570046/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-7). Thanks for reading!


	11. Tim the Drake (BatFam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has come to acknowledge two indisputable truths: 1) Dealing with magic-users with nefarious intents is best left to magic-wielding heroes and 2) there is more than one animal which may be referred to as a “drake” - guess which one said nefarious magic-users thought of first when Tim was stupid enough to tangle with them?

Damian clambered off his bike down in the motor pool of the Batcave while Jason stared at the lump under his bound-up cape. Robin had tied his cape across his chest to form a sort of sling and _something_ was wriggling around inside of it.

"Uhhh… Dames, you didn't bring home another litter of kittens, didja?"

Damian tsked and began fumbling with the knots that tied into ends of the cape into his belt. "Don't be absurd, Todd. I didn't push Father to set up a fund for local shelters just so I could steal all the eligible animals away from them-"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot all about your little _pet_ project."

Damian met Jason's overly antagonizing grin with an equally icy glare. "Richard would be proud. No. There was another run in with a magic-wielder tonight."

Jason's eyes widened. "Wait. So who is that under your…"

Dick had come in just after Jason had, he'd heard Bruce call in to the Cave not five minutes earlier, and the girls weren't out tonight so...

"Is that Tim? Oh man, what'd he get turned into this time? It's gotta be something cute if you're taking pity on-"

Damian loosened the final knot, slipped a hand under the cape, and revealed…

Jason burst out laughing.

"Oh my god! Timmyyyyy. A _duck_? They turned you into a duck?" He wiped away a tear as the boy-turned-water-fowl in question fluttered down to the floor with a put-out quack.

"A _drake_ to be precise," Damian snapped, looking uncomfortable. "This magic- user has discerned too much about us for my comfort - I suspect telepathy - and they share too similar a sense of humor to Richard's for my taste. They need to be dealt with swiftly before anymore unfortunate transformations, or worse, a leak of sensitive information, occurs."

Jason chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "So this is the same magic user that turned you into a literal infant fruit bat a week and a half ago, then, _baby bat_?"

Damian's frown deepened, but he didn't rise to Jason's baiting. "Yes. They are most troublesome."

Jason nodded. "I guess that explains why you were kind enough to give the 'Drake' a lift home; as I recall, Red Robin did you a solid by shielding your adorable little self from a lot of big Bat scrutiny and over-enthusiastic Nightwing cuddles last time," he teased.

Damian's icy composure shattered and he threw his recently removed gauntlets at Jason's head. "Idiot Todd! Kindness has nothing to do with it. I wouldn't leave a teammate out on the street in such a weak, pathetic form" - the drake on the floor between them chattered a stream of indignant quacks - "Don't argue with me, Drake, you were what Richard would call a 'literal sitting duck' out on those streets" - Jason choked back more laughter - "But I would never leave an ally out on their own in such a vulnerable position," Damian argued haughtily. "Even if that ally is Drake." Damian turned his heated gaze back to Jason. "Even if that ally were _you_."

Jason smirked. "Good to know you wouldn't leave a guy high and dry, Dameo." He ignored Damian's huff of disgust at the new nickname and squatted down beside the bird toddling uncertainly at their feet. "And how about you, babybird? You'd have my back, too, if some wackjob decided to turn me into a jaybird or somethin', right?"

Tim turned his head to glare at Jason with one perfectly round, piercing duck eye and Jason sniggered as a new thought occurred him. "I guess we gotta call you something other than 'babybird', now, huh? How about 'duckybird'? Or, hmmm, if that is too close to 'dickiebird', how about 'duckling'?"

Jason's laughter cut off abruptly when Tim launched himself forward with flurry of wings to snap at Jason's face. Tim kept up the barrage of attacks even after Jason began waving his arms around wildly in a vain attempt to slap the foul-playing fowl out of the air.

Dick re-entered the cave five minutes later to the sight of Jason running around, laughing his ass off, as a duck attacked his head from behind and Damian watched on in the background.

"Ummm…"

Jason threw himself behind Dick and shoved the older man into the path of the enraged bird. The duck bounced off Dick's chest with an indignant squawk, then waddled away, preening angrily.

"Why is there a duck in the cave?" Dick asked in a long-suffering tone. "Damian?" He turned his questioning gaze toward the most likely suspect.

"It's a drake, to be precise, Dickiebird. _The_ drake, actually," Jason answered. Tim quacked forlornly. Damian shook his head mutely and continued stripping out of his gear. Dick blinked blankly.

"Uhhh…"

Damiam sighed. "We had another encounter with the magic-wielder from last week. I was the victim previously, if you recall; this time it was Drake who was the least fortunate of us."

Dick's eyes widened and Jason cackled. Dick stepped forward and knelt down beside the bird, eyeing it cautiously. The drake lifted his head and met Dick's stare with a slow blink of his beady eye. "Tim?"

_"-quack-"_

"Oh, _Timmy_ …"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many people have been writing "Tim as a Drake" fics lately, I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon. Of course, most people write Tim as the **dragon** kind of 'drake'; I felt it was time to explore the possibilities around [the most common definition of 'drake'](https://www.google.com/search?q=Dictionary#dobs=drake). Hehehe. Poor Tim ;D
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/167994897536/tim-the-drake). Thanks for reading!


	12. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 8 (Tim & Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone suggested that Tim should substitute eggs for his second cup of coffee at breakfast; Tim listens. Kind of.

Bruce walked into the manor's kitchen and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Tim flipping something on the stove. He turned his head to glance at Alfred, who hovered several feet behind the young man. The elderly butler met his questioning stare evenly.

 _“Is this okay?”_ Bruce mouthed silently, concerned. Alfred's eyes twinkled in amusement, but he nodded a stately affirmative, then tilted his head slightly towards Tim, encouraging Bruce to direct his questions toward his son. Bruce braced himself.

"Morning, Tim. What're you making?"

"Morning, Bruce," Tim responded smoothly, without pause. He sounded drowsier than usual, but Bruce knew better than to think that he could ever sneak up on his former Robin, drowsy or not, or to think that Alfred would let any of the children near the stove top if he wasn't satisfied that they were sufficiently aware of themselves and their surroundings.

Tim raised the small pan off the burner and tilted it towards Bruce. "I'm making eggs." Bruce did a double take and stepped up behind Tim to stare down at the "eggs" in question.

"Huh. So why are _you_ making them instead of Alfred?" Bruce asked, trying to keep his tone light. _And why are they so…_ brown _?_ he wondered apprehensively.

Tim spared a second from cooking to give his adopted father a side-eye, his wry expression calling him out on the unasked question they both knew he was thinking.

"I wanted to experiment with something this morning and Alfred was gracious enough to lend me the stove and his expert opinion," Tim explained lightly. He turned back to the pan and nodded toward the food with a small smile. "I'm making a coffee chocolate-chip omelette."

"An…" - Bruce narrowed his eyes at the disconcertingly greenish-brown disc of egg - "…omelette?"

"Yes, omelette, as in eggs beaten, cooked into a disc, and then folded, usually around veggies, cheese and - or - meats," Tim responded in an amused tone. Bruce quickly stepped aside as Tim lifted the pan and moved to slide the fluffy wafer of egg onto a plate, expertly folding it into the customary half-moon shape as he did.

"I threw in milk to make it extra fluffy and nutritious, then added instant coffee, sugar and salt for flavor. The chocolate chips I added to it like I would to a pancake, but I'll skip folding in cheese and veggies for now," Tim explained with a wink.

Bruce stared past Tim's apparent good humor to the exhausted lines on his pale face and frowned. Had Tim finally hit the breaking point and was this hare-brained idea a result of that?

"The best part is that Alfred completely approved of my plan," Tim concluded smugly, undeterred by Bruce's lack of response. The second mention of Alfred's endorsement snapped Bruce out of his thoughts and he whipped his head towards his mentor-butler.

Alfred nodded. "It is not the healthiest of breakfasts, but the recipe itself is not in bad taste," Alfred informed Bruce before turning back to Tim. "And I rather approve of you eating more than a piece of fruit with your coffee for once, Master Tim."

Tim winced guiltily but grinned as he retrieved a fork from a silverware drawer. "So what brought this on?" Bruce asked wearily. Alfred responded.

"Master Tim was injured on patrol last night, if you remember, Master Bruce" - he did, of course - "and lost a fair bit of blood before we patched him up again. Master Dick and I recommended Master Tim consume actual food come this morning."

"Dick told me I should substitute eggs for my usual second cup of coffee," Tim added, pointedly raising a large mug to take a sip of what must clearly be his first. He nodded toward the eggs. "I listened."

Bruce grimaced and Tim laughed at his expression. As good as it was to hear Tim laugh…

"Tim, you know this wasn't what he meant."

"Close enough," Tim answered with a shrug.

Bruce looked to Alfred for help, but the elderly butler shrugged as well. Tim grinned and leaned down to slice off a piece of the cooling omelette. Bruce and Alfred watched in silence as Tim sampled the experimental eggs. Tim moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

"Perfect." Tim opened his eyes, smiled, and offered the fork. "You guys want to try a piece?"

Alfred hummed consideringly, and moved towards the silverware drawer for another fork. Bruce's eyes flickered between the fork and Tim's seemingly-earnest expression warily.

They watched as Alfred sliced off a small bite of egg and chocolate and delicately lifted it to his mouth. The pause between the eggs passing Alfred's lips and his nod and hum approval felt as if it lasted hours to Bruce when it had probably only lasted seconds.

"That turned out quite well, Master Tim," Alfred admitted, turning one of his rare smiles on the younger man. "We'll teach you to cook for yourself yet."

Tim beamed, then sliced off another bit of the strange omelette and offered it to Bruce. "Bruce? One last chance before I eat the rest?"

Bruce considered the proffered morsel. He glanced at Tim, glanced at Alfred, then considered the brown blob once more, a frown pinching his brow.

"I swear, Bruce, it's like a coffee chocolate chip pancake but without the flour and twice as fluffy.”

Wariness battled with curiosity until, finally, Bruce shoved his indecision aside in favor of trust. He reached for the fork and snapped the bite off the end before he could second guess his decision.

He bit down. Chewed. Then swallowed.

"Huh." He glanced over at the brown blob Tim had called an omelette. Funny, but it actually tasted like coffee. And chocolate. And…good? Huh.

"It's fine," he responded simply, handing the fork back to Tim, unwilling to admit more than that, but Tim grinned and Alfred shook his head knowingly.

"I told you it was perfect," Tim replied triumphantly. Bruce changed tack as Tim turned to crack two more eggs into a bowl. _He’s making a second one?_ Good for the protein, but…

"That instant coffee is decaf, correct?" Bruce asked. Tim spun the bottle on the counter and pointed to the label.

"That's what it says on the label and Alfred bought and unsealed it himself, so yeah," he answered without looking up. Bruce shared a look with Alfred and felt himself relax as the older man nodded.

They had both heard about the coffee chocolate chip pancakes of a couple of nights ago from Dick. Pancakes that had apparently kept Dick wide awake and _vibrating_ all night after consumption. Alfred had already suspected that Tim had pulled a switch on the instant coffee granules, but Dick's testimony solidified the theory.

Tim would probably never notice the half-regular, half-decaf blend Alfred had snuck into the jar the next day, but if he eventually did and attempted to change it back to regular, then Bruce was confident Alfred would always stay one step ahead in their little "instant coffee cold war." The man _had_ been a spy, after all.

"In that case…" Bruce murmured, stepping up beside his son. Tim continued to prepare his next omelette even as he looked up questioningly. Bruce cleared his throat.

"Would you mind making me one as well?"

Tim paused at the unexpected request, then smiled. "Of course! You want one or two?"

"One will be fine." No need to go overboard.

"You could use an extra bit of protein yourself, Master Bruce," Alfred chided as he turned back toward the refrigerator.

"Fine. I'll have two then, please." Bruce kept his face bland as Alfred nodded, the amused twinkle shining bright in his eyes once again. Tim’s smile slid closer to a grin and he turned away, probably to hide his own amusement.

"Very good, Master Bruce. Shall I fetch you more eggs, Master Tim?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, Alfred."

In no time at all they had four more omelettes - Alfred having requested one for himself as well - and then Tim surrendered the stove back to Alfred so he could prepare breakfast for the manor's other occupants.

Tim took his coffee, omelettes, and a bowl of sliced fruit to the table in the breakfast nook. Bruce followed. He set down his own plate of omelettes, sausage and and small cup of yogurt and then went back for two glasses of milk. He set one beside both of their places. Tim looked up questioningly.

"Milk goes great with coffee and chocolate, and you never want to pass up a chance at extra calcium and vitamin D," Bruce justified.

"Good idea," Tim admitted.

They ate in silence after that, enjoying the calm before the storm they knew would hit as soon as Damian and whoever else had stayed the night made their way into the kitchen. After a few minutes, Bruce cleared his throat.

"These are. Uh. Really good. Tim."

Finally, his son startled, having clearly not expected such straightforward - if halting - praise from him. "Thank- thank you?" Tim replied uncertainly.

"Really good. You did good. And thanks. For sharing them with us. With me," Bruce added awkwardly. He sighed internally; expressions of feelings always made sense in his head, but trying to find the right words - or any words - to communicate them usually left Bruce stumbling about as if he were learning to navigate through obstacles and combatants blindfolded all over again.

The gentle look on Tim's face as he nodded told Bruce that he understood anyway. Tim had always understood. He understood that Bruce appreciated his ideas and his support, even when Bruce couldn't say the right things. And he always understood that Bruce was proud of him - _so proud_ \- even when Bruce didn't say anything at all.

"Of course,” Tim replied. “Thanks for trying them. And thanks for suggesting the milk on the side; I think we have a winning combo," Tim admitted with a quiet smile.

They lapsed into companionable silence once again after that. Soon enough Damian entered the kitchen, issued various greetings for each of them, and settled down at the table as well. Alfred bustled over with more food, prompting Tim to quickly polish off the last of his fruit and chug the rest his coffee, clearly intent on escaping before Alfred could "suggest" he eat anything else. He stood, but paused, first to stare down into his mug, then up again at Bruce with a sparkle in his eyes.

"So… since these omelettes are a substitute for my second cup of coffee, and you clearly approve, does this mean I can make them with caffeinated coffee next time?"

Bruce didn't even have a chance to open his mouth before Alfred took the words right out of it.

"To the unspoken question of whether it will be permissible for you to regularly consume highly caffeinated food in addition to your highly caffeinated beverages, Master Tim, the answer is, most solidly and emphatically, **NO.** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not have made this entirely clear in the previous parts, but I _do_ try all of the things that Tim makes/does in the CCE ficlets, and, yes, coffee-chocolate chip omelettes _actually_ work. I am the mad scientist I write into Tim, but no-one was more surprised than me when this one actually tasted good. ~~Rats! And here I was hoping to write the intervention fic after Tim finally makes himself sick.~~ I guess coffee is just too awesome ;)
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/168925234826/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-8). Thanks for reading!


	13. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 9 (Tim & Batfam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph and the Batkids sneak off to one of their favorite late-night ice cream places one night after one of Bruce’s stupid galas; the place has forty-two - FORTY-TWO - flavors, but out of all of those, which do you suppose Tim will pick...?

Steph plucked at the strapless bra that was starting to dig into her ribs and sighed gratefully as the cool air of the ice cream shop they'd just entered washed over her flushed face. The other 'batkids' filed in behind her, dressed to the nines and newly escaped from one of the many infamous galas Bruce demanded they attend to keep up outward appearances.

Dick, Tim, Damian and Cass were all required to attend, of course, as official members of the Wayne family, but they'd found sufficient excuses to drag her and Jason in as "plus-ones" for Cass and Tim respectively, and Babs had already been in attendance - it was a charity gala benefiting the GCPD, as it happened - so they'd had the whole gang in one place for once.

That fact hadn't sat too well with Oracle - who had called in the Birds of Prey to cover the city while the Batfam schmoozed - or with Batman, for that matter, so after the Gala, the two of them had headed straight back to watching over the streets of Gotham. The kids, on the other hand, had made a beeline for the their favorite late-night ice cream parlor, fancy dresses, tuxes, and all.

Steph's beautiful one-shoulder, deep eggplant dress looked kickass [[x](https://www.jjshouse.com/Sheath-Column-One-Shoulder-Floor-Length-Charmeuse-Bridesmaid-Dress-With-Beading-Cascading-Ruffles-007051842-g51842?filterColor=grape)] - Cass and Tim had helped her pick it out the week before - but she was so _done_ with the clingy folds of silk and the tight bodice.

"Welcome to Gotham City Scoops," the freckly guy behind the counter welcomed them. "What can I get for you guys tonight?"

"Ahhh," Dick looked around at each of them expectantly, then stepped forward to act as the de facto spokesperson of their group. "I have a pretty good idea of what I want, so I'll order first to give you guys a minute, yeah?"

Damian and Cass nodded. Jason attacked the bow tie at his throat with a vengeance while Tim squinted up at the menu board. Steph turned her attention to the menu, keeping half an ear tuned-in to hear the others’ orders so as to maybe steal an idea for her own.

Dick ordered his customary double scoop of rocky road, then turned to the rest of the group expectantly. Nobody stepped up. Steph kept her eyes firmly fixed on the forty-two flavors above their heads.

"Come on, guys. I'll pay - my treat - but anyone who doesn't get their order in before I finish my cone is on their own," Dick warned them, licking a wide stripe up the side of his ice cream with an over-the-top stink-eye. Jason snorted at the goofy expression and Cass favored them with a small smile. She stepped up next, pointing soundlessly to the grass-green matcha ice cream and holding up two fingers for two scoops.

 _Rocky road? Matcha?_ No, Steph wasn't feeling either of those. She glanced over at Jason, who ran both hands through his slicked back hair, subconsciously mussing it back to normal again as he considered his choices.

Steph turned her head at the sound of Damian's voice. The kid had stepped forward, but he quickly retreated and tapped a finger against his mouth.

"I think.…maybe that...hmm, no, perhaps not," Damian equivocated. Steph giggled.

"Havin' trouble deciding, kiddo? Which ones are you split over?"

Damian whirled to glare at her then turned back with a huff. "Of course not, Brown. I'm not a child. I was simply weighing the merits of consuming chocolate at this hour versus not."

The clerk raised an eyebrow at Damian's verbiage but looked relieved when the kid finally stepped up to the counter.

"I'll have a double scoop of french vanilla, please."

Steph laughed. "All that for plain vanilla, Dami?"

Damian thanked the clerk for the cone then turned to glare at her. "Vanilla is not a plain flavor, _Stephanie Brown_. There are subtleties to the flavor that take a discerning palate and much patience to appreciate."

"Nah. If I ever _had_ to eat vanilla ice cream as a kid, I always drowned it in chocolate sauce and sprinkles," Steph replied, grinning when it got the expected rise out of Damian.

"Sacrilege!"

"Tasty," Dick chimed in around a mouthful of Rocky Road. Cass stepped up to Damian and laid an understanding hand on his shoulder. Damian murmured his mutual appreciation for Cass' "refined palate" and flavor choice and then turned away from the rest of them.

That left only Jason, Tim, and herself to pick. Steph studied the board again for a moment then found her eyes drifting to Tim. A sudden thought had her smirking smugly.

"Well… at least we all know what Tim's going to get, even if he'll play coy and wait until after everyone's ordered to make it seem like he didn't have his eye on the prize the entire time."

Tim turned to her with eyebrows raised and Jason laughed.

Coffee ice cream. It was a classic flavor, and Steph _knew_ it was Tim's favorite. Heck, even _she_ liked a good mocha chip every now and then. Tim stepped up to the counter. Dick nodded knowingly and Damian shook his head silently. Steph grinned. Everyone knew what was coming...

"I'll have a double scoop of the salted caramel and vanilla, please," Tim requested with a polite smile.

The family froze at the unexpected plot twist. They stared, lost for words as the server tacitly retrieved a clean scoop and a fresh cone. Jason finally broke the thick silence with a chuckle as he stepped up beside Tim.

"And I'll have a double scoop of strawberry, please," Jason added. He turned to Tim. "Wow, Timbo, color me impressed - you actually skipped the coffee for once!"

Tim grimaced. "I don't eat ‘coffee everything, all the time, always’ - give me a break!"

Steph blinked. Dick scratched the back of his head. Cass shrugged and turned her attention back to her ice cream.

"Well, forgive us if all of your wild ideas over the past few weeks have set a certain precedent," Damian remarked drily.

"Yeah, really!" Jason agreed. "All other coffee experiments aside, I thought coffee ice cream was you favorite? Why the switch up?"

"Coffee _is_ my favorite flavor, yes, and it always will be, but it's late, I'm tired, I'm actually sleepy for once, I don't feel like giving myself a caffeine buzz - however minute that would be from flavored ice-cream - and" - he paused momentarily to thank the clerk as he handed Tim his cone - "I actually really like the salted caramel here,” Tim explained coolly. He took large lick of the ice cream with a grateful hum. "Thanks for buying, Dick."

A chorus of ‘thank you’s followed Tim's. Dick chuckled and waved them off as he bit into the top of his cone. "Y're w'lcome," Dick slurred as around the bite. He swallowed and winked over at Tim. "It's good to see you enjoying some variety, Timmy. Maybe I'll try the salted caramel next time since you like it enough to pick it over _coffee_ of all things."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I didn't pick it over coffee; I'm just not feeling-"

Dick waved his freehand as if to swat away the words. "No, no, no, let us have this moment. _Please_."

Tim laughed, shrugged, and turned back to his cone. Meanwhile, Steph felt as stunned as she would if someone had thrown a brick at her face and then run off without a word. Of all the times for Tim to break with form and be spontaneous…

"Steph?" 

Steph jerked slightly, turning toward the sound. "Are you going to get anything?" Tim asked her. Steph glanced around - everyone was staring expectantly - then looked back to Tim, who was studying her with a little concern.

"Yeah, Steph. This ice cream is almost devoured; if you're gonna get anything, now's the time to do it," Dick reminded her with a grin, taking another large bite out of the rapidly disappearing cone.

Steph floundered. What did she want? What was she in the mood for? She scanned the board, but nothing popped out at her. _Rocky Road?_ No. _Vanilla?_ Ha ha, no. _Strawberry?_ No. _Peanut Butter Fudge?_ No, not tonight. _Chocolate?_ Not quite…

Steph stepped up to the counter slowly, shaking her head and feeling renewed heat suffuse her slowly cooling cheeks as she finally came to a decision. Dick popped the tip of the cone into his mouth and stepped up to the register.

"Last chance, Steph. What's is gonna be?"

"I-I'll have, uhhh…" - she grimaced, then forced herself finish - "a single scoop of mocha chip, please."

There was a beat of silence, then Tim laughed out loud and Jason snorted shortly after him. Dick shook his head as he pulled out his credit card. _Damn. They’re not gonna give me any peace for the rest of the night, are they?_

Nope. Of course not. "Welcome to the Dark Side, St-" Tim began, a shit-eating grin on his smug little face.

"Shut up," Steph barked at him, waving her newly acquired cone in his face like a weapon. Tim chuckled, but backed off.

She licked at her cone sullenly during the silence descended over the group as they all focused on enjoying their frozen treats - all except for Dick, who flitted off to the bathroom to wash his hands. After a few licks of delicious coffee and chocolate chips blended with cool, sweet cream, Steph dared to argue back, "Well, hey, at least I only got a single scoop while the rest of you got two; that has to count for someth-"

"No." Tim shook his head at her with mock seriousness and an amused twinkle to his eyes. A chorus of other ‘no’s and a tsk from Damian followed.

"But-"

Tim laughed and shook a finger at her with a grin. "Nope!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if these guys have any canon favorite ice cream flavors - I was just making these up as I went. If you know of any canon favorite flavors, or you have some headcanons, let me hear about them in the comments - I'm curious!
> 
> I originally planned this drabble to be the conclusion to the Coffee, Coffee Everywhere series, but I keep coming up with new ideas in spite of myself so… once I catch up on all the writing, this series will return ;)
> 
> This is the dress I imagined Steph would wear to the gala, in case you missed the link in the text: <https://www.jjshouse.com/Sheath-Column-One-Shoulder-Floor-Length-Charmeuse-Bridesmaid-Dress-With-Beading-Cascading-Ruffles-007051842-g51842?filterColor=grape>.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/170129701646/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-9). Thanks for reading!


	14. Timmy in the Well (Jason & Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“H-H-holy shit, Timmy, you fell down the well.” Jason clutches at his sides. “Help, help, little Timmy is in the well! Somebody call Lassie!” “ You better not call Dick or I will make your life a living hell!”_ \- It starts out as an unlikely cry for help from (preN52) Red Robin, and a good laugh for the responding Red Hood, but the longer Jason sticks around to hear Tim’s sob story, the more he’s certain he’ll be digging himself a hole just as deep and just as dark as Tim’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This set vaguely after the events of the pre-n52 _Red Robin_ comic series (2009-2011), in a Gotham in which Tim is still connected to, but distant from the Batfamily and Batman Inc. Bruce and Tim aren't necessarily seeing eye-to-eye right now. Dick is Gotham’s Batman, Damian is his Robin, and Steph is Batgirl. Jason is the Red Hood and he is "reconciled" with the batfam, but, word of warning, he and Tim are **not** friends in this setting. Jason is still working out his feelings toward the "family" and his "replacement". This work wasn't directly inspired by this, but my favorite headcanon for how Jason would feel during this period and how he would eventually reconcile to the batfam is laid out beautifully in [All Roofs of Uncertainty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2273208/chapters/4994631) by [@Kieron_ODuibhir](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kieron_ODuibhir/pseuds/Kieron_ODuibhir); I highly recommend the work.

“R-Red? Red Robin? Is that really you down there?”

The Red Hood squints down at the dark blob at the bottom of the old well then pulls out a small flashlight to double check. He’s dropped his cowl and looks white as a sheet but, yeah, that is the current Red Robin, Timothy Drake.

“Ti-timbo, watcha doin’ down there, buddy?” Jason chokes out, trying his hardest not to laugh at the literally downed man.

Tim glares up at him, squinting at the harsh light. “I fell. Why else would I be sitting at the bottom of a dry well?”

Jason can’t stop himself anymore and bursts out laughing. He yanks off his hood so he can wipe tears of mirth away from the corners of his eyes. “H-H-holy shit, Timmy, you fell down the well.” He clutches at his sides. “Help, help, little Timmy is in the well! Somebody call Lassie!” He teases in a squeaky falsetto.

“You better not call Dick or I will make your life a living hell as soon as I get out of here,” Tim threatens with the ghost of a grin, setting him off laughing all over again.

“Oh-oh-oh man…” Jason breathes, leaning into the well once he’s caught his breath again, “I needed that laugh. Dick as Lassie, huh? I can totally see that. Is that why you called me instead of him, so he wouldn’t call in the big B and maybe even the fire brigade, all to get little Timmy out of the well?”

Tim scowls but otherwise doesn’t deign to respond.

Jason clears his throat and tries to adopt a more serious tone. “I guess the better question is why you’re still at the bottom of that well? You lose ‘grappler one’, 'spare grappler one’, 'grappler two’, 'spare grappler two’ and-”

“Fuck you! I only have two grapplers, thank you very much,” Tim bites back heatedly. “I’m sorry I’m not a suicidal maniac like you, only carrying the one.”

Jason chortles because it’s half true. “So, what, did you lose both of them or something? I would have expected you to have at least started trying to climb out by now.”

The younger man glares and then moves for the first time Jason can recall since he had arrived, raising a shaky hand to flip him off. Tim coughs with a wince and Jason sobers up quickly as he studies his replacement a little more carefully.

“What’s the story, Pretender?” Jason asks, sweeping the flashlight around to try to see more. Tim turns his head away as if he were now trying to ignore the older vigilante, so Jason waves the flashlight around until the cramped space started to resemble some sort of impromptu rave.

“Ugh, stop it! Fuck! Why would I call you out - call anyone out at all - if I could climb out of this by myself?” Tim asks in a quavering tone, retching at the end of the hypothetical question. Jason freezes the light on him, getting a sinking feeling as he watches what he is now sure are the unintended side effects of his homemade strobe light. The kid probably has a concussion, at the very least.

“Replacement? Speak up, I can’t hear you. Why’re you still down there?”

“Fuck. You,” Tim gasps, coughing. “I fucking fell okay? And now… I think…” - he blanches and swallows - “I think I shattered my right leg. I tried to move after I fell, but I must have blacked out because the next thing I knew it was an hour later and I was still at the bottom of this damn hole.” He coughs again and sways, sending Jason into high alert. He does a quick tally of Tim’s injuries: definite broken leg, a probable concussion, and maybe a few cracked ribs - cracked if he is lucky; fully-fractured and puncturing a lung if he isn’t. Multiple sites of internal bleeding if Tim is truly down on his luck. Considering the circumstances, he doesn’t trust Tim’s luck. He raises a hand to activate his hardly-used comm, then pauses when Tim continues.

“I called you because I don’t think I can get out of this on my own, as much as it _pains_ me to admit,” Tim explains with a weak grin. Jason shakes his head in disapproval at the poorly timed joke.

“No shit, Babybird. But why did you call _me_?” It was a legitimate question, and one he knew he needed to phrase carefully if he wanted an honest answer. “If you have a shattered leg you’re probably gonna need that fire brigade. Why didn’t you call Batman or the other Batman or even Batgirl?”

“What, so they could bring _Robin_ along to finish me off? Or so my ex could freak out and call them all in to make a big deal over it? Jason. Please. No. I called you because I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. I’m not Batman - I have friends - but I’m still trying to work through a lot of stuff right now and I don’t need B or Dick trying to tell me to 'come home’ or 'take some time’ or whatever else they wanna say to me right now.”

Jason blinks at the flood of words then shakes his head, commiserating but uncertain. “Tim, man, I hate to break it to you but this _is_ kind of a big deal - the whole 'shattering a limb’ thing, ya know - and you will, probably, need to, uhh, 'take some time’.” He sighs and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Man, I don’t even think I can get you out of this hole on my own without causing you some serious pain and possibly inflicting further damage. And can you imagine what Alfie’s gonna say when he finds out you needed help and didn’t turn to the family? Didn’t turn to _him_?”

Tim blinks up at him with a deeply weary expression - Jason knows that feeling, totally _feels_ him on that - and shakes his head in return, refusing to accept to the realities of his situation. They’ve reached an impasse and neither man seems willing to give, but Jason has the high ground - in more ways than one - and knows it. He crosses his arms on the coping of the well and waits. They stare at each other for a long minute before Tim finally sighs and gives in.

“I know. It’s just… I just…” His eyes bore into Jason and Jason knows what he is going to say before the words cross his lips. “I just can’t.”

Jason gets that - he really, _really_ gets that. ‘Been there, done that’ and all that jazz. He scrubs a hand over his face, groaning internally at what he doesn’t want, but can’t help but say next.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to do this, then, sure, Replacement, just this once, I will haul you out of that well and I won’t say a fucking word to the Batclan about any of this. But you better be ready for the flight of your life if you plan on concealing your injury from them entirely, or for the fight of your life if you intend on fending off Alfred once he finds out.”

Jason tries to ignore the badly concealed look of relief on his replacement’s face and also tries to suppress the voices screaming _'bad idea’_ and _'really,_ really _bad idea’_ in his head as he begins rappelling down to the downed bird. He only said he’d haul him out of the well, but Jason knows he won’t stop at that - there is no way Tim is getting home on his own and how the hell did he plan to set his own bones, anyway?

Tim is probably going to need at least one surgery, if not more, to correct and stabilize the bones, if he was right about how shattered his leg was. There is no way this was going to be a swift, easy fix. Not to mention all the other injuries he’s probably racked up. There is definitely no way in hell he is going to be able to avoid the family on this one.

Jason knows all that and mulls over it as he suspends himself over Tim and prepares to move him, but Jason knows it doesn’t matter that _he_ knows. He knows it won’t even matter that he plans to tell Tim all about what he knows, sure as sugar, once Tim wakes up again (because he also knows Tim isn’t gonna stay conscious for the move, even if he manages to dodge the sedative Jason plans to hit him with).

The truth won’t matter until Tim accepts it too, so, for the time being, Jason resigns himself to wait. Resigns himself to wait and watch over another broken Robin until this one decides it’s time to come home too. _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ages ago, but it started out as something light and funny and then turned so dark and heavy (and, in some ways, personal to me) that I put off posting it for a long time. So many thanks to [@chibi_nightowl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl) for beta reading this and helping me find the version I could share with everyone!
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/171113395275/timmy-in-the-well). Thanks for reading!


	15. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 10 (Tim & Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally intended to be a bonus epilogue to the entire series, but then I was hit with several new ideas all at once, so instead this serves as a connector into the second half of the drabble series and as a prelude to the next part. Enjoy!

Jason entered the manor’s kitchen to find Tim making a cup of coffee at one AM exactly. Again. (Talk about déjà vu). He knew for fact that Tim had taken a shower down in the cave before coming up, so at least this time the coffee would stay out of the shower.

Probably.

“Hey, Timbo, I got somethin’ for ya.”

Jason tossed his gift underhand towards Tim’s back. He spun and caught the object out of instinct then immediately set it down and backed away swiftly.

Jason scoffed. Seriously, if he was going to throw Tim a grenade - not that he would, they were waaaaay past that stage now - or even just a stink bomb, there was no way he’d do it in Alfie’s kitchen; he _valued_ his second life, believe it or not.

“What…is that?” Tim asked, leaning in cautiously to squint at the object.

“That, my good sir, would be cheese. Espresso cheese, actually,” Jason clarified drily.

Tim blinked. “Espresso…cheese?” He looked to Jason in confusion. “Uhhh. Thanks?”

Jason smirked at Tim’s dumbfounded expression. “You’re welcome.”

“Uhhh. So. How should I…? Am I just supposed to eat it?”

“Yeah, sometimes I like to eat it on it’s own, but it’s good on crackers too, you know. Ooo, or you could fold it into an omelet, that’d probably be good. I heard you’re into those right now,” Jason suggested mock-casually. Tim leveled him with a flat, cool glare.

“It’d be pretty good melted over one of those coffee-rubbed steaks you like, too.”

The glare turned frigid.

“Or, ya know, savory pancakes are a thing and shredded cheese is always a great filler.”

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah, I get i-”

“Mostly I like shredding it and sprinkling it over spaghetti with marinara, but hey I guess you could always melt it down and drink it out of a mug in the showe-”

Jason laughed and ducked the wedge of cheese Tim pitched at his head at high speed. He made a hasty retreat to the door, but couldn’t resist a parting shot.

“Great idea, right? Wish you’d thought of it?”

“Ugh, Jason, just… NO!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/171917054683/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-10). Thanks for reading!


	16. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 11 (Tim, Dick, Jason, & Damian)

"Hey, Timmers, Dickiebird, how's it hangin'?" Jason called as he stepped into the kitchen of Tim's renovated-theater-turned-home, fully decked out in his Red Hood gear. Dick was also in full Nightwing gear, sans mask, and Tim was partially suited up.

"What the hell?! Why are you in my kitchen too?" Tim exclaimed, brandishing a red-stained stirring spoon like a club. "I can kind of understand Dick coming over, since we're patrolling together later, but come on, guys, it's like seven pm! Don't you guys have lives? Go take a nap or eat dinner or something!"

"Good plan, Timbo. What's cooking?" Jason asked at the same time Dick laughed and said, "Of course, why do you think I'm here?"

Tim made a frustrated sound and attempted to flick sauce off the spoon onto Dick's face. Dick easily dodged and stuck a tongue out at the younger man.

"I didn't give you guys emergency access codes so you could come over to mooch my food and - dammit, Jason, get your dirty hood out of my food! Why are you wearing that damn thing in the kitchen anyway?!"

Jason bit back a chuckle as he popped off his hood and wiped steam off the face plate. "Temper, temper, kiddo. And I keep this hood sparkling clean, thank you very much." He leaned forward over the food again. "Mmm, so we're having spaghetti and meatballs, then? What're the chances you still have that espresso cheese I gave you last week?" Jason asked with a wry wink.

" _'We're'_ not having anything. _I'm_ making myself dinners for the rest of the week and you guys are _not_ invited - get your dirty face out of my food, you ass!" Tim bit back, pulling a clean serving spoon out of nowhere to whack Jason in the side of the head. He backed off, chuckling as Tim glowered darkly and brandished both spoons in a manner reminiscent of Dick wielding his escrima.

"Awwww, but Timmyyyy. You've got plenty of food here-"

"Okay, so what the catch?" Jason asked, cutting off Dick's exaggerated whine. Tim gave Jason a questioning glare before turning back to the the stove.

"What do you mean 'what's the catch'? You mean why won't I-"

"No, Dickie texted me to tell me you were making a crap ton of food" - Tim turned to glare at Dick who shrugged and grinned - "and you never make food. _Never_. Unless…" Jason gestured to the food bubbling away on the stove. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"Where is the coffee?" Jason asked pointedly, pinning him with a knowing stare. Tim's anger wilted slightly. He shook his head soundlessly. Jason pressed further.

"Is it in the pasta water? The pasta itself? The meatballs?"

Tim grimaced. "Eww, no, why would anyone make spaghetti in coffee, although…"

"No. Uh uh. Don't you dare try that," Jason warned. "I'm not here to give you ideas, I'm here to witness whatever crazy you've come up with this time."

Tim returned his glare with a flat one of his own. Dick's stare darted worriedly between the two of them, the grin sliding off his face. Tim eventually sighed and sagged back against the counter.

"It's in the sauce and the meatballs, okay?" Tim admitted.

"Eww, Tim, why would you-"

"It tastes fantastic, I swear," Tim explained, cutting off Dick's protests. Dick and Jason shared an incredulous glance, and Jason shook his head in exasperation. Tim laughed and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"I'm not kidding. Just like coffee-rubbed steak, the coffee laced meatballs taste _amazing_ , and as long as you don't overdo the coffee in the sauce, it complements marinara scarily well," Tim explained, pulling the pot of sauce off the stove and tilting it towards them. Dick took a wary sniff.

"It tastes even better with grated cheese and freezes fantastically, so I’ve started making whole weeks of dinners all at once. It's fast, easy, and gives me a great boost of energy before patrol."

"I imagine it would, considering how much coffee is in it," Jason commented drily.

Tim shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "It's not _that_ much coffee. This more about the taste. But, yeah, it's got a bit of a kick, too. Unless I make it decaf."

Dick laughed out loud. "Decaf? For you? Good one, Timmy." Tim frowned at him then jumped when Jason dropped a hand on his shoulder and leaned in again.

"So, 'tastes even better with grated cheese', huh? That wouldn't happen to be the cheese I gave you, would it?" Jason asked slyly.

"Of course not, Jay. I finished that cheese days ago," Tim responded. He wasn't lying that Jason could tell, but he didn't miss the twinkle in the younger man's eye, either. "However, I may have acquired a greater quantity of a similar cheese…"

Jason huffed a laughed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "My god, Timbo. Triple coffee pasta."

Tim shrugged and turned back to cooking. "What? Aren't you glad I took your advice?"

"TRIPLE COFFEE PASTA!"

Tim shrugged again and Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. Abruptly, a familiar voice called out from the hall beyond.

"Grayson? What are you doing in this place at this time of evening?"

Tim slammed his spoon down as Damian entered the kitchen on silent feet, also fully suited up. "What. The. Hell. What part of 'emergency' in 'emergency codes' do you guys not get?!"

"Calm yourself, Drake. I only entered to track down _Grayson_ , who was supposed to speak with me tonight about a case," Damian explained, shooting a cool look toward Dick. "You also told Pennyworth you would attend dinner."

Dick winced. "Oops, yeah, sorry about that, Dames; I got distracted by Tim making food again. I'll be sure to apologize to Alfred later."

"Triple coffee spaghetti and meatballs, to be exact," Jason added.

"Oh? Sounds interesting. Seems tasteful enough, if Drake's cooking can be trusted to taste as good as it smells," Damian commented blandly, stepping forward to inspect the food. Tim blinked at the backhanded compliment. "Is that why both of you are here? To eat dinner with Drake instead of eating Pennyworth's food? Am I not invited to this 'Robin's dinner' as well?"

"Yes, sure, okay. You can stay," Tim replied, throwing his hands into the air. "You can all stay. Just. Someone set the table while I finish off the food."

"What, so you'll cave when Baby Brat asks but not for-oomf!" Jason thanked his body armor for taking the brunt of Tim's elbow jab and backed away with both hands held up in surrender.

"Very well, where is the cutlery drawer, Drake?" Damian responded smoothly, ignoring the horseplay by the stove.

"First drawer to the right of the sink. We won't need knives, only forks. Jay, come over here and drain the pasta for me."

Jason rubbed his mid-section warily, but stepped forward to lend a hand. "Aye, aye, Captain."

"Don't call me that. Dick, can you pour drinks?"

"Sure thing. What does everyone want?"

"Beer." - "Jay, Tim doesn't have beer in his 'frid- Tim! Why is there beer in your fridge?!" - "For Jason, so he won't drink milk out of the carton when he comes over."

"Water, will be fine for me, Richard."

"Iced Coffee; there's some in the pitcher on the door."

Three sets of eyes turned to Tim and stared. "Seriously, Babybird?" Jason asked. "You're already getting at least half your daily intake from the food alone. Let's not."

"I'm with Jaybird on this," Dick added.

"It'll be fine."

"How much coffee is actually in the pasta, Drake?"

"Dick, pour me the coffee."

"How about 'no', Timbo."

"It's my kitchen, Jason. Damian, I said no kni- DICK, YOU COME BACK HERE WITH THAT COFFEE! DICK!"

Jason chuckled as Tim gave chase. He called after him,"Sorry, Babybird, pretty sure that's a hard-"

"No! Definitely not. I'm pouring this down the drain. You can make more tomorrow," Dick finished, calling from somewhere deep within the building.

"DIIIIIIIICK, NOOOOOOO. GIVE IT BACK!"

"Nope!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/171949561700/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-11). Thanks for reading!


	17. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 12 (Tim & Steph)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another small snippet in this series; an appetizer before the longer part 13 to come tomorrow ;3

“Hey, boy wonder, wait up!”

Tim turned to look back at Steph as she pulled something from her utility pouch. She wound up and mocked throwing it at his head before chuckling and lobbing it to him underhand instead. 

He flinched before he caught himself and barely caught a little glass bottle. She made a face. “Jeez, you throw a brick at a guy one time and suddenly you can’t make a simple joke.”

“You threw it at my _face_ , BG. Forgive me if I’m a little more careful these days,” he replied, frowning at the bottle. “What is this?”

“That, my friend, would be espresso balsamic vinegar. They’ve got so many different flavors of fancy vinegar these days, but this is one of my more recent discoveries, it’s fantastic, and I thought you might like some too.”

Tim blinked. “Oh. Thanks. I guess I’ll make some… salad or something?” He crinkled his face under the cowl trying to imagine what espresso flavored vinegar would taste like over lettuce. It didn’t sound appealing, but hey, half the things he had tried didn’t sound like they’d work out so…

Steph snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think that’d taste all that great, but I love using it in marinades - baked balsamic chicken is awesome with this stuff - or you could drizzle it over caprese salad or mix it with olive oil to dip bread- mmmmm, now I’m making myself hungry.”

He nodded slowly. “Huh. Yeah, I’ll have to try some of those ideas. ‘Balsamic chicken’, huh?”

“Yep. Chicken marinated in vinegar, oil and seasonings then baked. Simple enough, even for you,” Steph teased.

“Yeah, sure,” Tim replied, rolling his eyes under the cowl. He turned back to the edge of the roof and pulled out his grappler. “Thanks, BG. I’ll give it a try and let you know how it goes.”

“You do that! Oh and Red Robin?” - he sighed and glanced back over his shoulder - “Needless to say, there’s no caffeine in that stuff, so don’t be tempted to drink it straight, in the shower or otherw-”

He launched himself off the roof; he’d heard enough. A call came over the comm as he swung away. _“Batgirl to Red Robin. Red, you there?”_ Tim grit his teeth. Steph just didn’t know when to give it a rest. Her and Jason both, sometimes.

“Red Robin. What, BG?”

_“I know you’re eager to head off and try that new stuff I gave you, but uhhh, did you mean to leave your bike parked in the alley on the opposite side of the building?”_

He groaned. That’s right. He’d brought his bike tonight and left it in the middle of the alley, expecting to take off again shortly. As much as he would _like_ to keep heading off in the other direction and avoid further ridicule…

Tim sighed and turned back. “…No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, espresso vinegar *is* a thing and it is very tasty as a marinade for chicken and beef :3
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/172843881681/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-12). Thanks for reading!


	18. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 13 (Tim, Damian, Alfred, & Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 13 for Friday the 13th ;3 Enjoy!

Damian stepped into the manor’s kitchen and frowned at the familiar backs of Pennyworth and Drake hunched over the stove. Todd sat at the table, fiddling with his phone. Damian could _smell_ the coffee suffusing the kitchen with it’s addictive scent. He sighed.

“Whatever insane coffee experiment have you convinced poor Pennyworth to assist you with _now_ , Drake?”

Drake glanced over his shoulder in annoyance and Todd glanced up from his phone wearing an amused expression. “I didn’t convince Alfred to do anything. It was his idea this time,” Drake explained. Damian raised his eyebrows and looked to Todd for confirmation; he chuckled, nodded, then went back to his phone.

“Indeed, Master Damian. I thought Master Timothy might enjoy a twist on the French classic, crème brûlée. This recipe is courtesy of one of Britain’s more respected bakers1,” Pennyworth added. He stepped aside to give Damian a peek at the ramekins filled with pale brown creme. “Cappuchino Crème Brûlée, if you will.”

Damian nodded. The idea seemed reasonable enough, and if a respected cook thought it was a good idea then surely…

He turned to Todd and frowned. “Are you supposed to be helping?”

Todd snorted and Drake rolled his eyes. “No, he heard the words ‘crème brûlée’ and decided to hang around so he could grab some,” he explained drily.

“We’ve prepared enough for six portions, Master Tim, so I don’t see why Master Jason shouldn’t get a taste,” Pennyworth reminded him, then turned to Todd. “Although, it will be quite a while before they will be fully cooled and fit for consumption, Master Jason. You may wish to occupy yourself with other pursuits in the meantime.”

“Nah, I’m good, Alfie,” Todd replied with a grin. “Today’s my day off; I’ve got aaaaaall day to wait.” Drake rolled his eyes once more and Damian mirrored the gesture.

“Ah, well, in that case, if you’ll be spending your entire day in my kitchen, Master Jason, then you’ll surely have the time to assist me with dinner. There’ll be no dessert before a full family dinner, after all.”

Todd narrowed his eyes warily, but Damian could see the corners of his mouth twitch. “Well played, Alfie, well played…”

Damian watched as Pennyworth and Drake slid a roasting pan with six ramekins into the oven and poured a generous quantity of boiling water around them. Pennyworth then poured a fair measure of sugar into a medium sized pot, instructed Drake to pour in just enough water to wet the sugar, and then placed the pot on the stove.

“I thought the caramel top to a crème brûlée was created by sprinkling sugar directly on top of each crème and cooking it under a grill or with a blow torch,” Damian commented. “Why are you making caramel separately?”

Drake turned and raised an eyebrow, but Pennyworth nodded. “Yes, Master Damian, we are indeed making the caramel separate from the crème. Many top chefs find that pre-making the hard caramel, blitzing it back to a powder, then melting a sprinkling of that caramel ‘sugar’ over the créme results in a shell that is uniformly even and more visually appealing than grilling the crème brûlée in the traditional manner.”

Todd nodded absently. “That’s a neat trick; I’ll have to try it next time I get the urge to make crème brûlée .”

Damian hummed. “I’m curious to see the difference such a technique will have on texture and quality…”

Drake’s stare took on a thoughtful quality as he absently stirred the sugar into solution. He cleared his throat. “Have you made caramel before? This is my first time and, frankly, I’m pretty sure I’m going to burn it…” he admitted slowly. His eyes darted to Pennyworth.

“-Tt- As if Pennyworth would allow such a thing to happen,” Damian scoffed.

“Actually, Master Damian, I need to run down cellar to pull a few items for dinner. I was going to ask Master Jason to lend his expert aid to Master Tim, but since he’ll be otherwise occupied carrying packages for me-”

“Whozawhatnow, Alfie?”

“-would you be so kind as to lend Master Tim your watchful eye?”

Damian blinked. His eyes darted back to Drake, but the older boy had already turned back to the stove. Todd stood up and snapped his book shut with no small amount of grumbling, but Damian didn’t miss the wink he shot Pennyworth as he stepped away from the table. Pennyworth waited for his answer with a bland, unreadable expression.

“Fine. I’ll keep an eye on Drake and his clumsy attempts to make caramel, if that’s what you wish, Pennyworth,” Damian finally allowed. He pushed aside the surges of warmth he felt when Drake turned around to beam at him, and when Todd clapped him on the shoulder with a grin, Damian striving to keep his expression neutral. He was simply doing ever-faithful Pennyworth a favor for once, nothing more.

“Very good, Master Damian. I trust we’ll return to an intact and decidedly fire-free kitchen?” Pennyworth inquired, turning his dry tone and bland stare onto Drake, who grinned apologetically and shrugged.

Damian scoffed and put on a clearly exaggerated expression of appall. “Without a doubt, and I’ll promise you better: you’ll return to the best caramel anyone other than yourself has ever made in your presence.”

For all the excuses he gave himself, deep down he knew he was being manipulated - manipulated into getting along with Drake and manipulated into cooperating with the lot of them - but while that might have annoyed him a few years back, he couldn’t find it in himself to care all that much anymore. After all, there were worse things to do with your time than show your predecessor one of the many things you already do better than him. Or to do Pennyworth a favor. Or to spend time with your family.

“I’ll certainly hold you to that, then, Master Damian,” Pennyworth acknowledged soberly, his tone at odds with the amused twinkle in his eyes. “Come, Master Jason, we have supplies to retrieve.”

Todd paused before he followed Pennyworth through the cellar door and turned back to Damian with a shit-eating grin. “I notice that you agreed to an 'intact and fire-free kitchen’ but promised nothing about an intact and fire-free Timmy. Should I expect to come back and find Tim on fire?”

Drake rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove top; the sugar solution had turned clear and begun to bubble vigorously. Damian scoffed.

“Certainly not. I promised nothing in this kitchen would burn and I meant it. That includes Drake.”

Todd glanced over at the veranda doors near the breakfast nook and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “But I mean if-”

Drake laughed out loud and turned to shove Todd toward the cellar with both hands while his and Damian’s voices echoed as they simultaneously responded

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1<https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/cappucino_crme_brles_08725>; this is but one of many recipes - apparently coffee is a very popular flavor for crème brûlée these days ;)
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/172909260106/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-13). Thanks for reading!


	19. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 14 (Tim & Kon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, Jason came to him with a coffee flavored novelty. Then Steph. Then Alfred, of all people. So, Tim shouldn't feel too surprised when Kon shows up out of the blue one night bearing gifts, but for once Tim really doesn't feel like eating the coffee-enhanced offering. He might burn it instead.

“Hey, Rob, how’s it hangin’?”

Red Robin glanced up from where he was zipping tying yet another mugger from yet another mugging in the seemingly endless stream of petty muggings that Gotham seemed to throw at them in spades night after night after night. In other words, business as usual.

“Superboy.”

“Hey, I know Ol’ Bats won’t like me stopping by,” Kon began, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but I was pretty much flying up the East Coast anyway, so I wanted to drop something off with you and also see if maybe you wanted to hang out tomorrow or something? I know this weekend is your weekend off, but I missed our re-watch binge session while I was off last week. I gotta get my ’ _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_ with the bros’ fix in, ya know?”

“You guys watch still watch _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_?” the dirt bag between them laughed in an incredulous tone. “What are you? Fourteen-year-old gir-” he cut off with a sharp grunt when Tim slammed him face first into the ground.

“So, by ‘bros’ I assume that Impulse is in on this as well?”

Kon grinned. “You know it!”

Tim sighed and motioned for them to move to the rooftops as the wail of sirens approached. Kon offered him a hand, but he shot him a look and a slow shake of his head, then grappled up the side of the closest building. Together they watched as the police pulled up and cautiously approached the mugger.

“Tomorrow is my night off, so yeah, you guys can come over around five and we’ll order pizza, binge on sugar, and re-watch season four.”

“We finished season four last time.”

“What? I don’t remember watching the end of season four.”

Kon barked a laugh so loud that every head in the alley below turned upwards, forcing them to step back from the edge. Tim punched him in the shoulder playfully for nearly giving them away - he was internally grateful for the reinforced material of his gauntlets that absorbed the majority of the rebound so he didn’t bruise his knuckles - and Kon grinned sheepishly.

“Dude. That’s because you fell asleep halfway through episode nine and we felt so bad for you that we let you sleep through the rest of the season.”

“You guys should have woken me up. Fine. We’ll watch season five, but Netflix doesn’t run past season four and I don’t own season five, so someone else needs to bring it.”

“Wait, are you pouting? Because we watched season four without you?” Kon guessed, laughing quietly. Tim punched him again and this time he felt an ache in his knuckles even with the gauntlets.

“You know I can’t feel that.”

“You know what I have in this pouch right here. This little, _lead-lined_ pouch.”

Kon cleared his throat. “Yeah. So. Yeah, I can bring season five. I have four through twelve on DVD, so we’ll just have figure out how to watch the rest after that. Oh. Before I forget…” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, shrink-wrapped package of four tins. “I was down in Jamaica on Titans business, saw this, and thought of you.”

“Uhhhh… 'Jamaican Green Tea Mint’ candles?” Tim asked dubiously.

“They’re not all the same, read the labels.”

Tim studied the names on each of the tins then glanced back at Kon with a long-suffering expression. “You got me a coffee scented candle.”

“Awesome, right?”

“A candle.”

Kon boomed out another loud laugh. “Yeah, I thought you could burn it, take a long bath, try to - I dunno - relax a bit and maybe catch some Zzzs for once.”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But why would a coffee candle put me to sleep. Isn’t the point of coffee to do the exact opposite?” Tim bantered back blithely, tugging off his cowl so Kon could feel the full weight of his unimpressed glare. He needed the break out of the cowl to cool off anyway.

“The way I see it, the only way we’re gonna get you to slow down and smell the roses - so to speak - is if we manage to find coffee scented ones,” Kon explained teasingly. Tim opened his mouth to argue, but Kon went on quickly, cutting off his retort, “Anyway, open it up. I wanna see how authentic it smells.”

He grimaced and began attacking the pesky shrink wrap. “What? You didn’t even smell it before you picked it out for me?”

“Of course I did, but I’m not a coffee expert and _connoisseur_ like you,” Kon teased. “I want the expert’s opinion before I pat myself on the back for a good find.”

“Uh huh,” Tim responded absently. He snarled in frustration, lifted his forearm, and stabbed the stubborn plastic with the spikes of his gauntlet - Kon shook his head at his vehemence - then widened the holes with his fingers until the contents finally tumbled free. The four small tins separated, and he picked out the one labeled "coffee” and pried off the lid.

“Hmmmm…” Tim hummed. “Actually…dark and toasty, with an authentic depth and pleasant, woodsy undertones.”

“Oh my gosh, you really are a coffee connoisseur,” Kon groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I was _kidding_ …”

“Oh wow, and they actually decorated the candle with real coffee beans,” he murmured appreciatively. “This is nice. I’ll have to burn this later to get the full effect.” He hid a smile as he added, “But only after I’ve made myself a cup of coffee. There’s no way I’m going to tease myself with the scent and not drink a cup too.” Kon groaned louder and he chuckled. “Make it two. Jamaican coffee is pretty good, after all.”

“No, you should SLEEP later,” Kon asserted. Tim shook his head.

“I can sleep after coffee.”

“You’re a monster, a crazy coffee monster. What have I done?” Kon moaned, scrubbing both hands over his face. “Actually, you know what? Give it back,” he demanded, holding out a hand. “I can’t give you this. I can’t enable you in your coffee obsession.”

“Too late. Thanks for the gift, Superboy,” Tim replied, smirking sharply as he pulled up his cowl and backed away towards the edge of the building.

“Wait, where do you think you’re going? Come back here and give that back!”

“Only if you can catch me!” Tim yelled as he leapt away from the building, swinging off into the night.

“Like heck I can’t!” the super called from behind, the wind whistling as he flew to intercept. Tim shot out a line to his right and executed a sudden, sharp turn between two buildings. Superboy shot past him and lost distance as Tim swung away in the opposite direction. Tim turned to look over his shoulder a few swings later to see Kon catch his trail and speed up to catch him.

“You won’t be catching anyone if Batman catches you first,” Tim yelled back to him over the roar of the wind around them.

Superboy nearly dropped out the air, spinning on the spot in a vain attempt to spot the lurking Bat - a Bat that currently wasn’t anywhere near them according to Tim’s comm chatter, not that Kon needed to know that. Tim took the opportunity to swing up onto an overlooking rooftop, and loomed over his friend, shoulders shaking as he laughed silently.

“Rob, come on!”

Tim laughed out loud once, then turned and ran. “Nope!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing Kon and I'm sorry: my fondest memories of him and Tim from canon hail from their Young Justice (comics) days so that is where their dynamic is stuck and why they still watch 'Wendy the Werewolf Stalker' ;)
> 
> This fic was inspired by a family member who visited Jamaica and brought back candles as a gift for me, including a coffee one, just as I described above.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/173309059880/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-14). Thanks for reading!


	20. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 15 (Tim & Steph)

“Hey, thanks for meeting me here for lunch,” Steph chirped, punching him playfully in the shoulder in greeting.

Tim straightened the consequent wrinkles out of his suit jacket and grinned back. “No problem. I needed to get away from Wayne Enterprises for a bit anyway. Besides you know how much I love smoothies.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a doubtful glance before he redirected her attention to the registers. 

“Hi, how’re you? What can I get for you today?” the server behind the counter asked politely but briskly.

“Good, uh, yeah, I’ll have the Triple Berry Blitz and a Crispy Chicken Ranch Wrap, please,” Steph replied brightly, pulling out her wallet. Tim stepped forward and laid a hand on her wrist.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get lunch today and you can cover coffee later, okay?” he murmured. She grinned over her shoulder in thanks and nodded for him to come forward. “These two orders will be together,” he told the cashier as he stepped up to the counter.

The server’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, hello again! A Café Loco with regular coffee, right? Anything else?”

Tim felt Steph grab his hand under the counter and begin to shake with hidden laughter. He did his best to ignore her - and ignore the furious blush blooming on his face - so he could focus on ordering. “Yes, I’d also like a Very Veggie wrap, please.”

“Would you guys like chips with your meals?”

“Yes, the plain Sun Chips, please,” Steph replied. Tim murmured a quick no and reached for his wallet. Steph turned her attention to staring a hole into the side of his head while the corners of her mouth twitched.

“That’ll be $24.46.”

He handed over his credit card smoothly, but Steph was practically tickling his arm by that point, so he was forced to draw on every scrap of his Robin training just to keep a straight face.

“Thank you. Would you like your receipt?”

He declined quickly.

“Thank you. See you next time!”

Tim thanked the server briefly then hurriedly dragged an openly giggling Steph away to a table. She threw her backpack down on one chair and plopped down in the one beside it while he carefully folded his jacket over another chair then pulled out the chair across from her. He seated himself slowly, pinning her with his iciest “Tim Wayne” glare as he sank down to her eye level, but she didn’t seem to feel the chill. Instead, Steph leaned forward and shoved her grinning face up into his until he had nowhere else to look but at her.

“So I guess you really _do_ like smoothies. Imagine that,” Steph began. Her tone was casual, but there was a wicked twinkle in her eyes that Tim knew all too well. He sighed. “But for them to recognize you on sight and have your order _memorized_? Jeez, Tim!” She laughed out loud, drawing stares from some of the other patrons. He scrubbed a hand over his face and waited for her cackling to drop a decibel or two.

“Yes, I come here every week, around the same time, and, yes, I usually order the same thing,” Tim admitted quickly, hoping the “give up and play dead” strategy would bore Steph away from the topic. It didn’t. He should have know better by now.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and waved a hand toward the menu on the wall. “‘Café Loco with regular coffee’, huh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” A different server emerged from the kitchen with two styrofoam cups and called out their orders. Tim held up a finger for Steph to hold that thought, grateful for the interruption, and darted over to retrieve their smoothies.

“A Triple Berry Blitz for you…” he murmured as he set her drink in front of her.

“…and crack-in-a-cup for you,” she teased as he re-seated himself. He met her challenging stare with an unimpressed glare. “Oh, I’m sorry, _chilled_ crack-in-a cup,” she amended, nodding to herself in mock seriousness.

“Chilled crack-in-a-cup blended with low-fat yogurt and chocolate, actually. Very different,” he bantered back, finally giving in and joining in on the joke. It was always easier to play along with Steph than to try convincing her to let something go.

“O-oh, yes,” she choked out, “The addition of low-fat protein totally negates the caffeine from the coffee and the chocolate. Makes it a completely different thing entirely.”

They burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking, and they were so caught up in the moment that they almost missed it when the server came out with their food. They both jumped up, but Steph waved him back down and walked over to retrieve their food. They dug into their wraps eagerly, Steph rolling her eyes at his choice - “Still on the rabbit-food diet, I see” - then lapsed into companionable silence as they focused on their meals.

Halfway through their meal, however, her hand whipped out unexpectedly and snatched up his smoothie.

“Hey!”

“Easy, I just wanna know what’s so great about this thing that you come back for it every week,” Steph placated with a teasing grin. She took a long sip through his straw, then let her eyes roll up into her head and moaned.

“Okay. I take it back. I was only kidding when I called it 'crack-in-a-cup’ earlier, but I might have been on to something. I think I might have a new addiction. Ugh. Thanks a lot, ex-boyfriend.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Don’t blame me, blame the smoothie place. They’re the ones who engineered this one.”

Steph snorted and handed the drink back to him. “Like you’re really all that innocent, Mr. I-Mix-Coffee-Into-Everything.”

“I do not mix coffee into everythi-”

“Ha! And you really get the same smoothie every time? You have a rainbow of options - including other chocolate and sweet options - but you really cave to the coffee every time?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I really like coffee-”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed-”

“-and I don’t always get the same thing _every_ time,” he informed her primly. She raised her eyebrows inquisitively and he grinned.

“Sometimes I get decaf.”

Steph laughed so loudly a small child actually jumped and ran behind their mother. “You? Willingly consume decaffeinated coffee? Invite me to lunch again next week and show me,” she challenged with sharp grin.

His grin sharpened to match. “Sure” - _challenge accepted_ \- “It’s a date.” He cleared his throat and gestured toward the styrofoam cups. “But, in all seriousness, I’ve tried the other smoothies before and just I didn’t really like any of them. The coffee one is pretty much the only one I like, and if they ever took it off the menu, I’d probably never come back.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong with the rest of them?”

“The fruit ones are too sweet for me.”

“Whaaaaaat?! No, they’re so wonderful, I don’t believe you. Have you ever tried Triple Berry?”

“Yeah. Too sweet.”

“Noooooooo, it’s so good. Here try it again!” she pushed, waving her cup in his face. He barely avoided getting poked in the eye by the straw before he leaned back and raised both hands to fend her off.

“Nah, I’m good, Steph.”

“Nooooooo, try it!”

“No, thanks.”

She popped the lid off her smoothie and reached for his. “Here, I’ll pour a little onto the top of yours-”

He snatched his drink off the table and shook his head threateningly. “Don’t you even dare.”

She laughed and leaned forward over the table, only laughing harder when he placed one palm on her forehead and pushed her back into her seat while he clutched the smoothie to his chest.

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter serves as something of an interlude to the CCE series, a break away from the cycle of "Tim, what crazy coffee-food have you invented this time" and "Here, Tim CATCH, have a coffee-themed item". It is also so autobiographical it hurts - I got the idea for this part from the fact that I only ever order one thing at the local tropical-themed smoothie place (if you're in the US, you know which one I'm talking about) and now they recognize me on sight and repeat my order back to me before I even say hi. Soon they'll be making it before I come in... (good grief XD). But you *know* Tim would be the same way. "Coffee? Coffee. Yes, the coffee option please."
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/173370378087/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-15). Comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	21. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 16 (Tim & Dick)

“Hey, Red, hold up a sec!”

Tim sighed under the cowl and rolled to a stop on the rooftop he’d planned to cross with a single dive roll followed by a long kash; so much for the good flow he’d had going.

Nightwing had been following him for the last four blocks and, deep down, Tim had been hoping that that had just been Dick’s way of feeling nostalgic for their old bouts of rooftop tag. The last thing he needed near the end of a long string of hard nights was for Dick to see him struggling and pull out the big brother routine. He just wanted to go home, chug a gallon of coffee, write a few reports then pass out for thirty minutes before he had to get up for work.

Nightwing flipped up onto the roof with a flourish and Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Hey! Glad I caught you! I’ve been meaning to give you something…” Dick trailed off as dug into the pouches of his suit. How he ever managed to get anything useful into those tiny pockets was beyond Tim. “I know they’re around here somewhere…”

He sighed impatiently when Dick switched from the first pouch to another and then another after that. Whatever he was looking for had to be something small, maybe a thumb drive containing important information about a case, but if it was so important that he couldn’t or wouldn’t transmit the info via the Batcomputer or Oracle’s network, then maybe Tim should invite him back to his Nest at the converted theater. He was just about to suggest they move to a more discreet location when Nightwing exclaimed “AH HA!” and pulled something out with a flourish.

He raised the object as if to throw it and Tim jumped back quickly, putting enough space between himself and Nightwing that he could dodge the projectile if necessary. Nightwing paused and frowned. “Red? You okay?” He took a step forward and offered a small package. Tim took it warily and turned it over in his hands slowly.

“Okay. I’ll bite. What is it?”

Dick laughed and flipped up the whiteout lenses of his mask.“You’ll bite? You’re acting like _it’s_ going to bite _you_. Just open it!”

Tim sighed and peeled a strip of tape away from one side. The package fell open to reveal three small tubes. “Chapstick?”

“Coffee flavored chapstick! It’s getting colder and drier out, someone recommended these to me the other day, and I thought you’d get a hoot out of them,” Dick explained excitedly. Tim turned the tubes over in his hands, studying the labels in the dim light. “There’s a hazelnut one and a mocha one and a maple one and…oh! I almost forgot!”

He was so absorbed in peeling off the plastic shrink wrap so he could get a sniff of one that he missed Dick throwing a fourth one at him. The little tube hit him right on the nose and Dick doubled over laughing at his involuntary squawk of surprise.

“A-and dark roast. Oh my- S-sorry,” he stuttered, trying and failing not to laugh. Tim pulled down his cowl, specifically so he could glare at Dick and rub at his nose, which, of course, hadn’t felt a thing through the cowl piece, but still, it was the principle of the thing. Dick’s reaction was to laugh harder for a second before finally quieting and rubbing a tear from one eye. “No, really, sorry, I was aiming for your hands.”

“Whatever, you _dick_ ,” Tim shot back with a fond smirk. “And thanks.” He finally popped the lid off one and took a careful sniff. He gave an appreciative moan. “I know you know how many of these I go through in a single week once winter rolls around, and these flavors will be a nice change of pace. Thanks, ‘Wing.” He popped the lid off the maple one and grinned sheepishly when the enticing scent tricked his stomach into growling.

“The mocha one is my favorite,” Dick piped up. Tim peeled the wrapper off that one, making a point to tuck the growing pile of plastic wrappers into one of his belt pouches. He took a sniff and laughed.

“Of course you do! It smells just like that stupid ‘Coco-Poofs’ cereal you like.”

Dick grinned, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes that showed the mirth was real. “Caught me, Timmy.”

“Hey. No names,” Tim reminded him absently as he snapped the seal off the last tube, a different brand from the other three, and held it up for a sniff.

“To be fair, that dark roast one reminds me the most of coffee,” Dick commented. Tim nodded along in agreement, enjoying the scent for a long, _thirsty_ second, before applying the lip balm to his cracked lips.

“Mmmmmmmm. Thanks, Dick.” He tucked the tubes into his pouch and ambled over to give Dick the hug he knew the older man would see as a thank you above and beyond any words.

Dick huffed a laugh and ruffled Tim’s sweaty hair. “No problem, _Red_.”

Tim stepped back and pulled up his cowl. It was about time he called it a night and put some real coffee past his lips. Dick stopped him just before he turned to vault over the side of the building.

“Hey. I got you lip balm, but what I meant to say was 'take care of yourself, man’.”

Tim rolled his eyes under the cowl. There it was: _A wild, over-bearing brother appeared!_

“The shadows under your eyes are starting to peek out under your cowl and that, Little Bro, is _bad_ , even by your standards,” Dick teased. He gave a little salute then dove off the roof and flipped away into the night.

Tim blinked. That hadn’t been quite the lecture he’d been expecting. That had been much… _shorter_ than he imagined.

He received a call over the comms just as he was swinging away from the building.

_“Hey. Red. You there?”_

“Yeah. You forget something, Wing?”

 _“Yeah. Promise me you’ll never make triple coffee pancakes, with_ regular _coffee, ever again ever.”_

Tim laughed, feeling as close to light and carefree as he had in a long time. “Nope! No promises!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lip balm is real. I said to myself one day "huh, I wonder if anyone makes coffee-flavored lip gloss or chapstick; that would be cool." Then I searched it and found no fewer than five different kinds XD 
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/173945873444/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-16). Thanks for reading!


	22. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 17 (Tim & Damian)

“What is _that_?”

Drake looked up from his meal and raised his eyebrows coolly. “This would be food…” he started slowly.

“-Tt- Don’t play games with me, Drake, I can see that it is _food_ \- or at the very least edible since you appeared to be shoveling it down your gullet before I entered - no, what kind of ‘rice’ is that?” Damian asked, leaning in warily for a sniff. “And why does it smell like…” - his eyes widened in realization - “Good grief, Drake, you truly know no shame.”

“Get your face away from my food!” Drake exclaimed, pulling his plate away. “I have no idea what kind of problem you have with my food but-”

“Why does your rice smell like _coffee_ , Drake?” Damian demanded pointedly, getting right up into the older boy’s face.

Drake frowned and made a petulant sound. “It smells like coffee, because it is coffee. It’s rice made in coffee.”

Damian stepped back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rice… made in coffee..” he repeated slowly, disbelieving.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Damian made a disgusted face. 

“Hey, don’t knock it before you try it,” Drake added jokingly, lifting the plate and waving it tauntingly under his nose.

He didn’t think Drake had really intended for him to actually try the rice, but Damian had always been set on doing that which was least expected, so he snatched a clump of the brownish grains off the plate - carefully avoiding the beef and vegetables Drake may have also tainted with caffeinated bean water - and popped it into his mouth before the older boy could react.

He froze and watched with baited breath as Damian slowly chewed the rice and seriously considered the flavor. It _did_ taste distinctly of coffee. Watered down coffee, but coffee nonetheless. To be fair, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant flavor, but, on the other hand, it wasn’t something he would request a second helping of either. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

“It’s missing something. The diluted flavor of coffee doesn’t compliment the blandness of rice all that well on it’s own, not that I could ever imagine _enjoying_ such a dish even if the flavor were better balanced,” Damian informed his predecessor evenly.

Drake blinked in surprise, then looked down and considered the plate. “Yeah, the infusion of coffee can be kind of bitter and jarring with plain, dry rice,” he admitted slowly, but his face lit up in a grin as he glanced back at Damian. “I don’t mind it as long as I’m eating other things at the same time, but I’m sure if you added a little sugar and salt, then you would enjoy the rice all on its own.”

Damian made a disgusted sound and moved away from the bar, crossing the Penthouse kitchen it overlooked to open the refrigerator door and retrieve one of the ready made snacks Pennyworth had left for them within. “I think not.”

Drake shrugged and went back to his meal. Damian retrieved his food and returned to the bar. He sighed as he slid onto the bar stool next to the older boy.

“In all seriousness, your habit of adding caffeinated substances to every area of your sustenance is becoming alarming, Timothy.”

Drake’s eyes darted up at his given name and he stared for a long moment before he sighed and scrubbed a hand through his stupidly long hair. His lips quirked up in a slight smirk as he quietly rebutted, “I could say that I do it because I love the flavor of coffee, you know.”

“And we would both know that that would be a lie, a partial one, at the very least,” Damian replied soberly.

Drake nodded, leaning into his elbows on the bar and letting out a long breath. “Yeah. I’ll give you that one. I like coffee but… life is crazy, so I need the caffeine.”

“You _need_ sleep,” Damian commented in a low voice as he dug into his food.

Drake chuckled. “Caffeine is easier. And quicker. Unless you, oh best-most-worthy-Robin-of-all, know how I can run a Fortune 500 company, take college classes, work with the Titans, solve cases, and run patrol, but still find enough time to sleep eight hours per night. If not then I’m going to keep finding new and creative ways to ingest caffeine along with my other necessary nutrients and vitamins, thank you very much.”

Damian shook his head silently. The tired, self-critical bitterness in Drake’s tone stifled any protests he would have normally made about his true status as the best Robin or about the demanding nature of his own schedule. Truthfully, he knew, deep down, that Drake had it much, much worse. He’d had it worse ever since he’d gone off to find Father in the time stream, maybe even long before that. Maybe as far back as when Damian had first arrived, ready to take on his rival and stop at nothing to prove that he was the better successor, or even further than that.

He sighed and set aside his food, looking up at Drake seriously. “Yes, I will give you that one. But eventually something will have to give. If it isn’t your busy schedule or your unwillingness to set aside time for sleep, then the thing to give will be _you_.”

The corners of Drake’s mouth twitched upward. “So you _do_ care.”

“-Tt- Of course. We’ve discussed this - I wouldn’t waste my breath or time if I felt otherwise,” he confirmed impatiently. Drake grinned and opened his mouth, but Damian raised his voice and plowed over whatever inane teasing the older boy had been about throw at him.

“Of course I care about keeping a key component to our crime-fighting unit and our family’s business ventures in place and operational. I’m not a fool,” he elaborated huffily. 

“'Key component’ huh?”

“Your cooperation, however annoying to me at times, has been and will continue to be crucial to our efforts. Only a blind fool could deny that.”

“'Crucial'…”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Yes. Try not to let it go to your head.”

Drake laughed out loud and Damian let his expression soften at the sound. It had been a long time since he’d seen anything resembling happiness in his predecessor. It was a better look on him than business suits or capes or fake 'Wayne smiles’ for paparazzi cameras. Then stupid Drake went ahead and ruined the moment.

“I’ll try. Hmmm. 'A crucial component to our family’s business ventures’, huh? Does that mean you’ll stop pushing the board to force me to step down as CEO?” Drake asked, his gaze as abruptly sharp and calculating as much as it twinkled with mirth. Damian rolled his eyes.

“-Tt- No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Like and reblog this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/173974607254/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-17). Thanks for reading!


	23. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 18 (Tim & Jason)

Tim jumped at the sudden clink-thud of a heavy glass object set down in front of him. He dragged his aching eyes away from the screens of the Batcomputer and stared uncomprehendingly at the mysterious brown bottle.

“Heyo, Babybird. Got another gift for ‘ya.”

He followed the hand still holding onto the bottle up to an arm which led to the face of Jason Todd. He blinked slowly.

“Whazzat?”

“Wooooow…” Jason drawled, tsking and shaking his head for dramatic effect. “I’m glad I stopped by tonight 'cause you look like you’re really struggling, Timmy-boy. Coffee not your friend tonight?”

“Mmmmf. No,” Tim moaned, scrubbing his hands over his face in a vain attempt to rouse himself. He was not awake enough for banter, much the less anything else, right about then. “Caffeine’s great 'n all, but there’re limits. I have limits. I'm… pretty close to the limit,” he admitted reluctantly.

Jason sobered quickly. “How long have you been up?” he asked seriously.

Tim shook his head. “Not long, actually…”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Wrong question. How many hours of sleep have you had in the last seventy-two hours?”

“Uhhhhhh… maybe… two-two and a half-no, three, definitely three.”

Jason sighed. “Well, I have just what you need right here.” He gestured to the bottle then startled Tim again by plopping a six pack of smaller bottles next to it. “If you can read the labels on those I _might_ consider letting you finish whatever it is you are doing before I drag you off to bed.”

Tim glared up at him blearily then turned his gaze on the bottle, squinting his weary eyes at the blurry labels.

“Did…did you… did you buy me coffee _beer_?”

Jason threw his hands up and gave a little cheer. “Yay, you are alive in there! Yes. I got you both ends of the spectrum, a beautiful espresso stout, dark and bitter, just like your outlook on life after a long stream of sleepless nights” - Tim turned his weak glare back onto Jason once again - “and a 'double bean’ blonde ale, a pale beer brewed over cacao nibs and coffee beans for a surprisingly harmonious combination of sharp coffee flavor and sweet, chocolately mellowness. I’m partial to the blonde, myself.”

Tim’s glare turned into a dumbfounded stare. “What are you? A walking beer commercial? And why is this something I need right this minute?”

Jason laughed. “Sue me for being enthusiastic about it, will ya? These are _exactly_ what you need. It’s right about now that you’d go reaching for a double espresso, right?”

“Try a quad.”

“Okay, well, sip on the espresso stout instead.”

Tim frowned and turned his chair around to face him. “Are you trying to get me drunk? It might taste like coffee but I know for a fact there won’t be any caffeine in that.”

Jason got down right in his face. “I’m trying to _sedate_ you, Timmy. You’re about five minutes away from getting a faceful of knock out gas or some of Alfred’s infamous 'decaf coffee’ - y’ know, the kind with the heavy sleep aids in it - so I thought giving you something that tasted familiar and fun might be a nice change of pace.”

Tim looked away and fiddled with a pen. “I 'preciate it, but I don’t need an intervention.”

Jason pinned him with a stare, eyes unconvinced, unamused, and unwavering. “Tim, the last paragraph of the case notes you were compiling has next to no punctuation and literally says 'the victim the dog was "borribly heatened” before window tossed two’.“

"What?” Tim whirled and squinted at the screen, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, clarification: the victim _has_ a dog, and who the hell even beats up a person _and_ their dog before tossing them through a window?”

“A vile fucker I will track down as soon as I tuck you into bed,” Jason replied smoothly.

“Don’t you dare shoot them,” Tim warned distractedly as he poked futilely at the keyboard.

“I dunno, Timmy… A dog? I dunno if I can forgive or forget that…”

“Jason…” he growled. The older man’s eyes gleamed and he sensed a trap coming.

“I dunno, if you don’t want to drink the beer with me then I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my night…” Jason trailed off suggestively.

Tim made a disgusted noise and started closing out of his computer session. “Fine. I’ll drink the damn beer, but it better-”

He jumped for the third time in less than fifteen minutes when Jason abruptly clinked an open bottle of the blonde ale down in front of him.

“-be…good…” Tim blinked rapidly. Where did that…when did he…? “Are you secretly the Flash in disguise or something?” he complained, eyeing the new bottle skeptically.

Jason snorted. “Nah, Timmy you’re just fallin’ behind. Bottoms up,” he toasted, holding out the neck of another open bottle. Tim grabbed his and mumbled something unintelligible as he waved it in the general direction of Jason’s. He then heard the older boy chuckle as he took a clumsy swig of the beer. The burst of flavor gave him pause.

“Huh.”

“What’s up, Timbo?”

“This is actually pretty good,” Tim admitted slowly, looking down into the bottle. Jason patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“Good to hear. You wanna keep at it while I go find some water and talk Alfie down from spiking the coffee?”

Tim tilted back the bottle and took three massive gulps in lieu of a reply. He slammed the bottle down on the console and turned to Jason. “Where’s th’ bottle opener?”

Jason stared in wide-eyed shock for a moment, then grinned, a mischievous expression lighting up his face. “Uhhh, yeah, lemme go talk to Alfie first and find us some water, and then I’ll open you another one.”

“Ne'ermind, I know how t’ open one bottle wit anudder one,” Tim slurred contentedly, the alcohol taking quick effect over his barely-hanging-in-there state of consciousness.

Jason laughed out loud. “I’m gonna regret bringing you these in the morning, aren’t I?”

“Nope,” Tim replied, popping the 'p’ at the end in the same moment he popped the lid off his second beer.

“No?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

Tim shook his head and grinned drowsily. “Y’re gon’ regret givin’ me beer five minutes from now when I pass out an’ you hafta carry me t’ bed.”

\--- _  
_

“Ughhhhhh… ”

Tim regretted everything. He rolled over onto his back and shoved his fists into his eyes trying to block out the light peeking in through his blinds. There was a quiet click of the door latch, then a soft clink of a glass being set on his bedside table.

“I told you I would regret bringing you those beers last night. I wanted you to loosen up, relax and get some sleep, not drink half of it and pass out drunk,” Jason’s voice informed him quietly.

Correction: Tim regretted _almost_ everything. “I don’ regret you bringing the beer last night and I don’t regret drinking it,” he responded. He uncovered his eyes to find Jason staring down at him skeptically. “I needed that.”

“You needed a hangover this morning?”

“I needed a break, and those coffee beers were _awesome_ ,” Tim informed him as he sat up and stretched carefully.

“I’m glad you liked them,” Jason replied, taking a seat beside him on the bed.

“Besides I’m not hungover,” Tim explained quickly, scrubbing at his sleep-mussed hair. “I always feel like this in the morning after breaking a seventy-two hour stretch. Besides, I distinctly remember you shoving twice as much water into my hands as beer. What time is is anyway?”

Jason snorted softly and reached over to ruffle his hair. “You totally look like a little baby bird with your hair all puffed up and sticking in every direction, Babybird. It’s almost dinner time.”

He sighed. “Figures. Guess I should get dressed and head down before Alfred comes in to harry me out.” He started to swing his legs off the bed, but Jason placed a hand on his knee, reached over to grab the water, and offered him two ibuprofen. Tim shrugged and threw back the pills, followed by the entire glass of water.

“So…” Jason started slowly, a slow grin forming on his face. “If you liked the beer that much does that mean the next time I see you up at two a.m. making a mongo mug of coffee I can sub in coffee bee-”

“No,” Tim shut him down succinctly, hopping up from the bed and throwing his blanket over him so that it completely covered the older boy from head to toe. Jason laughed and wrestled the blanket off with flailing arms.

“Okay, but what about a White Russian or maybe a couple shots of Kalu-”

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite parts about writing this series has been the "research"; without a doubt I'd probably experiment with coffee in the kitchen one way or another, but writing the coffee-flavored lip gloss and the coffee beer chapters were the perfect justification for me to spend the money to try new things. "Oh, I'm going to write about them so I _have_ to try them first, right?" ;)
> 
> Also, I may have purchased no fewer than six different varieties of craft "coffee-infused" beers over two separate occasions. Suffice it to say there is a lot of beer in my fridge right now ^_^; 
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Like and reblog this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/174006045961/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-18). Thanks for reading!


	24. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 19 (Tim & Bruce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for vomiting in this chapter; Tim has finally reached the breaking point in his addiction to coffee and lemme tell ya, the meltdown isn't pretty. Read with caution.

Batman slid silently through the window of Red Robin's apartment/safehouse. The Dark Knight was out and about earlier than usual, but earlier that day Red had passed along some puzzling information on a case they were working together, so he intended to speak with him in person before Red headed out for the night.

Smelling food, he ghosted soundlessly through the living room and poked his head into the kitchen. There was indeed food laid out on the table - salad, chicken, and some kind of pasta in an unfamiliar, creamy brown sauce - but no sign of Tim. The salad and chicken looked untouched, the pasta only half eaten. Something didn't feel right.

Batman tuned in to his other senses, tensing when he heard a strange, faint noise coming from another part of the apartment.

_Had someone broken in and gotten the jump on Tim? Was he injured? Sick? Poisoned?_

Well, two out of the four, as it turned out. Kind of.

Batman found his former Robin kneeling on the floor of his bathroom, clutching the rim of the toilet bowl with both hands as if someone might rip it away from him. Bruce pulled down his cowl and knelt to one side, peering into the young man's reddened face.

"Tim?"

Red-rimmed, glassy eyes flicked toward him for the briefest second and then Tim was pitching himself forward to retch repeatedly into the toilet. Bruce removed his gauntlets and rubbed gentle circles into his back. He hadn't suited up yet, so Bruce could feel the heat of his skin through the thin shirt, could feel him trembling and tensing through every gagging motion.

After a handful of seconds that felt more like hours later, Tim's face re-emerged from under the rim and he turned to give Bruce a watery grin.

"H-hey, B."

Bruce sighed. "Tim," he acknowledged tersely. He reached over and tore off a strip of toilet paper that he handed to him with which to wipe his mouth. Tim thanked him quietly then shifted over to slump against the wall.

Bruce took the makeshift napkin from Tim’s limp hand and flushed it down the toilet along with the brownish bile and odds and end of noodles he had brought up in what certainly hadn't been his first ‘facetime’ with the toilet. "What happened?" Bruce asked quietly.

Tim opened his eyes lethargically and shivered, halfheartedly attempting to push himself further upright against the wall. "Dinner," he responded cryptically. "Just dinner."

"Poison? Bio-terrorism?" Bruce asked with a growing frown. He cautiously laid the back of his hand against Tim's forehead. If it was the latter, then Bruce had already been exposed in any case. Tim felt warm, yes, but not feverish and he could feel and see a light sheen of sweat across the younger man's face and neck from this distance.

"N-not exactly," Tim responded, his expression pinching as another wave of nausea rolled over him. "I-I messed up," he admitted.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and waited. Tim swallowed thickly several times and his hands clenched to fists before he went on in a warbling voice.

"I made myself some pasta… some mac n' cheese" - a particularly pained look crossed his face and Bruce leaned forward in concern, but he waved him away and pushed on - "I'd made it before. It was fine. Perfect. But this time… this time I-"

Bruce barely had a chance to move aside as Tim launched himself at the toilet with an agility that defied his apparent condition. Bruce rubbed one hand up and down his back with greater vigor, encouraging him to get out of his system. His intermittent trembling turned into a continuous shaking that worried Bruce.

"'This time' what, Tim?" he asked, feeling a rising sense of urgency.

Tim panted for breath as he emerged, tears at the corners of his eyes. "I-I messed up. I changed the recipe. And. And… ughhh" - Tim retched over the bowl once again but nothing came up - "it was too much. Not good. Really not good."

Bruce still wasn't sure he understood. "Okay, so you made yourself dinner, including a macaroni and cheese recipe you'd made before and then-" _Wait. Macaroni and cheese? That brown, creamy-looking sauce is supposed to be chee- Oh no…_

"The cheese sauce. It has coffee in it, doesn't it?"

Tim didn't turn, but he nodded, his eyes scrunched closed as he panted over the toilet bowl, and Bruce cringed.

"Coffee macaroni and cheese." It wasn't a question. Bruce didn't need to ask why. That this was Tim was reason enough. "Instant coffee added to macaroni and cheese. I’m assuming it wasn’t decaffeinated?”

Tim didn't respond. Bruce sighed. "How much?"

Tim shook his head. "N-not much. An’ not just coffee ‘n cheese. Sugar. Garlic. Cayenne pepper."

Bruce tilted his head and raised the eyebrow further. _Not much, huh?_ Tim stared back as defiantly as he could in his current state, but he eventually buckled under Bruce's unwavering, doubtful stare.

"O-originally I used a teaspoon of instant coffee. It was fine. Tasted fine. Reasonable kick" - from the caffeine, not the cayenne, Bruce presumed - "but t-tonight I wanted more kick. Long day. Tired. Needed… needed the extra oomph." He paused to swallow, carefully cleared his throat, and raised a shaky hand to flush the toilet. Bruce waited.

"Added another teaspoon tonight. That's… that's only equivalent to two cups of coffee… so… didn't think…" he trailed off, breathing heavily through his nose, turning slightly toward the toilet as he concentrated on controlling the nausea.

"Didn't think… so bitter… too bitter… but I could handle it. Was fine. At first. But then…" he swept his gaze over the toilet, then met Bruce's eyes for the first time since he had entered the bathroom. "Yeah. No. Not so good."

Bruce shook his head and recapped what he had leaned. "So. You made yourself coffee-enhanced macaroni and cheese" - he didn't even want to try to imagine what that would taste like - "You wanted extra caffeine so you added extra coffee. It seemed like a good idea in theory, but in practice your stomach disagr-"

He cut off abruptly as something Tim had said earlier jumped out at him. He studied his son; Tim had collapsed back against the wall again, visibly shaking and panting as if he'd just come back from swinging halfway across the city. The bad feeling he'd had from before rose up again.

"You said 'kind of'," Bruce began, pinning the boy with a questioning glare. His eyes had slipped shut again and he didn't notice. "Meaning 'kind of’ _poisoned_? Tim… how much coffee have you had up until now?"

He winced and cracked an eyelid. "Uhhh… how far back are we talking?"

Bruce frowned. "The last six hours," he clarified in a stern tone.

"Ahhhh… I had a coffee with lunch.. and an espresso after. I made myself some green tea for the afternoon; I try to mix things u-"

"Matcha green tea?" Bruce interjected. Tim grimaced, the corners of his lips twitching upward in the suggestion of a sheepish grin.

"Y-yeah. Green with extra matcha" - so, in other words, the most concentrated form of caffeinated tea possible - "and then I had two cups of coffee. Oh, and an energy drink, to get me through the last hour and a half at WE. I picked up a double espresso on my way home… and… that's... that’s about it..."

" _That's about it?_ Tim. That's what?" - Bruce paused to think about it for a moment -"that's the equivalent of eight cups of coffee, plus the two from the food - that’s at least 800 milligrams of caffeine in just six hours. At least. Probably more."

"Y-yeahhh… That's not really all that uncommon for me…"

" _Tim!_ That is double the recommended maximum! As in the maximum amount advised per _day_ ," Bruce explained forcefully, turning the full weight of his glare on his third son. Tim's eyes slipped shut and he sagged further back into the wall, but whether that was to avoid his disapproval or because the stress and caffeine overload had finally overwhelmed him, Bruce couldn't tell.

He moved in close with another sigh and pressed two fingers to the inside of Tim's wrist briefly before moving both fingers to the hollow of his throat. His pulse was strong, but too fast and irregular to follow at the peripheral point in his wrist. Shaking and panting rapidly. Face flushed and sweating. Nausea. Bruce shook his head. These were all classic symptoms of caffeine overdose. Combined with exhaustion, low-blood sugar and probable dehydration, it was probably only a matter of time before Tim hit the breaking point.

Bruce sighed and rose to loom over his son briefly before bending down to gently pry him off the wall and snake an arm around his back. "Come on, Tim. Time to go."

Tim moaned, but didn't argue as Bruce pulled him to his feet and helped him into the kitchen. He sat him down to wait in a kitchen chair while Bruce hastily disposed of the noxious macaroni and boxed up the other food. He made a remote call to the Batmobile, bringing it to their location, and then, while they waited, he located a backpack from Tim's room and stuffed it with his laptop, work and personal phones, and the food. Once the car had arrived, Bruce pulled up his cowl, collected his son, and carefully helped him down the fire escape, taking the shortest path possible to the Batmobile waiting for them in the alleyway below.

As they began their descent, Tim found his voice again.

"B-bruce?"

"No patrol tonight. For either of us. We're going back to the cave. No arguments."

"N-no, I… Jason was right."

Bruce frowned behind the cowl. "What?"

"Jason… he… I have a problem. He said," Tim explained breathlessly. "He… was right." Bruce held him close as he used his grapple to bypass the final ladder, and held on even tighter when he felt his son’s knees buckle as they touched down. Tim raised his head to look Batman in the face. "He’s right. I do have a problem. With caffeine."

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement and helped him toward the passenger side door, which opened automatically as they approached. Admitting that he had a problem was a good first step, but only time would tell if Tim would stick by that admission once the unpleasant symptoms had passed. Bruce hoped that he would, but he didn’t dare say so out loud.

Tim only spoke one more time before they made it back to the manor, mumbling nearly incoherently as they pulled away from his apartment building.

"Br’se?"

"Yeah?"

"Think 'm gonna take a break from coffee f’r a while."

Bruce glanced over and saw the ghost of a grin on Tim's dazed face as he looked out on the darkening streets. "Oh? Take a few days off?" Bruce half-teased gently.

“Thinkin’ more like.. couple o’ weeks. Maybe. If... doesn't kill me. We'll see."

Bruce smiled. "I'm sure everyone would be more than happy to help you survive that. You can count on me. And Alfred."

Tim huffed a breathy laugh. "Thanks. Sounds like a plan."

Bruce nodded then turned his attention back to the drive and to their next priority - to getting Tim home, where he would have a night of IV fluids, stern (British) admonishment, close observation (also known as Batfamily hovering), and unsolicited TLC to look forward to. Bruce glanced over at his third son one more time and, for a wild moment, wondered if this addiction could kill him, if it would kill him, but... _No. It won't. He isn't alone. He has us. To have his back and to remind him to take care of himself. He'll be fine._

 ** _No._** Bruce amended, allowing himself a small smile. _We'll be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce didn't want to imagine what "coffee mac 'n cheese" tastes like, but I don't have to: Yes, I _did,_ in fact, make and then taste such a thing. And. Idk what to tell anyone anymore… The first batch wasn't bad! It tasted okay, so I ate an entire portion and I didn't die. I can't understand it. I literally had to make another portion and add double the coffee to find something that tasted poorly enough that it _might_ induce vomiting and even then… Tim (not me) probably could have eaten it and gotten away with it. So, to be fair, his sin in this fic isn't daring to add coffee to macaroni and cheese, but rather that he finally hit the limits of what his body would put up with. Good grief. I tried guys, I really did, but short of making something that really wouldn't work and Tim would never try (idk, like… coffee broccoli) I'm now convinced that coffee can be added to nearly anything - however strange it may sound - and made to work _so long as the coffee concentration is **low**_. 
> 
> So, the takeaway from all of this, kids: ~~coffee is magic~~ don't overdo the coffee; all things in moderation, please.
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Like and reblog this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/174901464851/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-19). Thanks for reading!


	25. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 20 (Tim & Batfam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting terribly ill from his most recent coffee creation, Tim vows to break his dependence on caffeine, claims he's going to quit coffee for a while... but can he really do it? The Batfam has buckled in for the long ride ahead and is here to help. Mostly.

Jason strode into the kitchen, looking to snag some breakfast before he passed out for a few hours, and stopped when he saw Tim at the table in the breakfast nook, nursing _something_ in Bruce’s infamous mega mug.

“Hey, there Timbo, what'cha got? Already falling off the wagon?”

Tim turned his bleary, dark-shadowed eyes up at him and instantly Jason knew that whatever was in that mug, it was definitely _not_ coffee, decaf or otherwise. “It’s tea. Herbal tea. Mint,” he responded tersely. He looked about five seconds away from falling asleep on the spot.

“I’m thinking about making myself some chocolate chip pancakes; you want some? You look like you could use the sugar.”

To his surprise, Tim shook his head vehemently. “No. Can’t have chocolate. Has caffeine in it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. What about blueberry? Blueberry sound good?” Jason backpedaled quickly, feeling bad for the thoughtless suggestion.

Tim hummed and took a long draw of his mint tea. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks, Jay,” he replied drowsily, the words echoing strangely in the mug.

“So, uh, how much longer before you’ll start letting yourself have small amounts of caffeine again, Timbo?” he asked, attempting casual conversation as a means to keep the kid conscious.

Tim set down the mug and sagged back, immediately sliding low into the seat. “It’s been what… two weeks now? So… at least another six.”

“Ouch. Two months total?” he asked incredulously as he assembled the ingredients for pancakes, scrambled eggs and fruit. He’d been planning to ask Tim to slice the fruit, but at this point he didn’t feel confident Tim wouldn’t accidentally slice a finger off or stab himself in his current state.

“Yeah. At least two months,” Tim answered, his words trailing off into a large yawn. He finally gave up on keeping himself upright in the chair and plonked his head down on the table instead, arms hanging limply underneath.

“What is this I hear about you going back to caffeine, Drake?” Damian demanded loudly as he walked through the kitchen door. Dick filed in behind him. They had a full house at the manor this morning, so it wouldn’t be long before nearly the entire Batclan filled the large kitchen.

“Not f'r anudder six weeks, Dami'n,” Tim mumbled into the wood, not even bothering to turn his head.

“Good,” Damian replied haughtily. “Otherwise my threat to keep you away from caffeine at the pain of stabbing still stands.”

“No one is stabbing anyone,” Bruce sighed as he stepped into the kitchen a moment later. Tim raised his head at the sound of B’s voice, blinking rapidly at the newcomers as they abruptly filled the kitchen with noise and movement.

“You’re cooking this morning, Jason?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped up beside the stove.

“Yeah. I ran into Alfie and asked if it’d be okay. He said it was fine by him. That fine by you?” he asked lightly, keeping his attention fixed on the pancake mix he was assembling from scratch. He tried not to let the tension of being questioned show in his posture. B gave a low grunt of assent and patted Jason lightly on the shoulder before moving off towards the fridge. Jason let out a low sigh of relief. That was about as cordial as things got between them these days, but things were better than they had been; it was a start.

“So what are we having,” Dick asked as he poured an obscene amount of Crocky Crunch into a salad bowl. Alfred would have a conniption when he came downstairs and saw that.

“ _We_ are having blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fruit. I dunno what you’re having, you cereal-obsessed monster,” Jason replied, giving Dick plenty of side-eye as he stirred the wet ingredients into the batter.

He laughed out loud and ambled over to grab the milk from Bruce. “Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of room left over for your pancakes, Little Wing.”

“You’d better go easy on the pancakes, Grayson. We wouldn’t want your posterior to become anymore pronounced or noticeable than it already is. It is already something of an exposure risk at this point,” Damian deadpanned smoothly. All motion in the kitchen stopped and every set of eyes turned to stare at him.

“Was that…? Was that a butt joke? From you? Am I awake? Did I hear that right?” Tim asked in awe, scrubbing at his eyes, which were finally fully open, and open wide, at that.

“Damian…” Bruce began in a growl, but Dick laughed and steered him over to the table.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dames,” he responded amiably, rolling his eyes at the displeased expression on B’s face. “Drink your milk and let him be, Bruce. Do you know how long I’ve been working to teach Damian to have a sense of humor?”

“Hey, Damian, could you help me slice the fruit?” Jason asked, tearing the youngest’s attention away from the table and whatever argument he planned to start over his supposed ‘sufficient’ sense of humor. Damian nodded and turned to begin washing the fruit off in the sink.

Jason glanced back toward the table and considered what a strange thing it was to not see a single drop of coffee anywhere. Bruce had apparently taken to drinking milk or tea or juice whenever Tim was around, partially as a show of solidarity but also to reduce the burden of temptation, or so he had said. Jason shook his head in wonder. To think Bruce of all people would - or could - give up coffee, at least partially, to help one of them.

Actually, he mused, almost everyone was doing something support Tim’s decision to lay off the caffeine for a while; Bruce giving up coffee in the mornings, Alfred providing alternative drink and food, Cass sharing her herbal tea, Dick checking in on him during patrols, Damian stealing all the coffee out of his safehouses and bugging the pantries to deter him from sneaking into the locked-down coffee beans. Okay, that last one was a little messed up, but so was Damian, so in a own way it was kind of touching how far he had gone to keep Tim away from the coffee.

Jason himself made a point to check in with him now and then to make sure he kept up eating well even without all his “coffee creations” to keep him motivated and to make sure he didn’t try stay out on patrol or stay up working too much later than the rest of them. With varying success, of course.

Steph and Cass entered the kitchen next, both making a beeline for the tea and coffee section of the counter. Cass went right to work heating up water in the electric kettle and pulling the green tea out of the cabinet while Steph pulled a sachet of something for herself from her pocket.

“The fruit has been sufficiently sliced, Todd. How else may I be of assistance?” Damian asked, rinsing and wiping down the knife briskly.

“Awesome,” Jason replied distractedly, briefly glancing over the meticulously cut fruit and nodding approval. “Uhhh… could you take the bowl over and then start setting the table?”

“You need some help, Dames?” Stephanie asked brightly, turning away from the hot water kettle holding a steaming mug. Cass also turned and nodded toward him to offer her aid.

Damian grimaced at the nickname, but continued in an even tone. “If you would set out the plates, Brown, and if you would set out napkins, Cassandra, then I will follow with the cutlery.” They nodded assent, and wandered over to set their mugs down at the table; Steph set hers down at the seat next to Tim, Cass set hers across from them, and then they both turned to their tasks.

A few seconds later a loud moan disrupted the bustling tranquility that had fallen over the kitchen. He turned along with everyone else to see Tim leaning away from Steph’s mug dramatically, eyeing the steaming mug as if it held a poisonous snake. His face paled and he swallowed convulsively.

“Tim…?”

“Steph, what did I tell you last week?” Tim croaked unhappily, pushing back his chair and sliding over into another seat unsteadily.

Everyone’s eyes whipped over to Stephanie, who rolled hers. “Jeez, stop being such a drama queen. Do you remember what I told _you_? I don’t care if you’ve ruined coffee for yourself; I need my morning fix, I’m going to have my morning fix, and if you’re around when I make it, then you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Tim clamped a hand his mouth as he stared, transfixed, at the mug and shook his head. She sighed. “Besides, it’s not going to jump out and bite you, or worse, jump down your throat. You’re a big, strong Red Robin, I know you can handle a little temptation here and there.”

Damian made a sound like an angry cat and stalked over to her. “Brown, I swear upon my blade, if you ruin our efforts to break Drake of his appalling hab-”

“It’s not temptation,” Tim cut in loudly, standing up and starting to back away from the table slowly. From where Jason was standing, he looked a tad green around the gills. “It’s the smell.”

They each frowned. “The smell?” Dick parroted in confusion.

Tim grimaced. “Ever since the time I… yeah… the smell of coffee is just…” he trailed off, waving his hand suggestively.

Steph snorted and sauntered over to the table, snatching up her mug. “So, what? You’re trying to tell us that ever since your stunt with the mac n’ cheese you can’t stand the smell of coffee?”

Tim glared and nodded. Steph laughed out loud. “So are you avoiding coffee because you’re avoiding caffeine or because the smell makes you wanna hurl?”

Tim’s glare darkened. “Both,” he snapped, darting forward to grab his tea, then slowly treading in a wide arc around Steph toward the door to the rest of the manor. “I’m serious about breaking my caffeine addiction, but believe me, right now there is nothing tempting about the smell of coffee to me whatsoever.”

Steph grinned wickedly. “Are you sure? I mean you put on a convincing act, but how do we know you’re not sneaking off to brew a triple espresso in some secret hiding spot right this minute, huh?”

If Tim could have simultaneously set someone on fire and frozen their soul to the core with a single look, Steph would have shattered into a thousands smoldering frozen bits on the spot.

“You _sure_ you’re not tempted to sneak a sip?” she teased, darting in close and wafting the mug in his face. Tim literally gagged and dashed for the sink, leaving Steph and the rest of the family gaping in shock as he actually, real life, coughed up his tea into the sink.

Jason couldn’t believe it. Trying to imagine a Tim Drake who has an aversion to coffee was like trying to imagine a Dick Grayson who suddenly one day announces he hates cereal. Impossible, or so they thought.

Before Steph, or anyone else for that matter, could recover from the shock, Damian shot forward, grabbed the mug from her slack grip, opened a door to the veranda and hurled the mug as far out onto the lawn as he could. Everyone stared. Steph blinked once then stormed out onto the veranda.

“You brat! My coffee!!!” she shrieked. “And I liked that mug!” She whirled on Damian. He crossed his arms and glared up at her darkly.

“That is what you deserve, not only for sneaking contraband into this house while a ban of the substance - a ban we all agreed upon for the sake of one of our team - is in effect, but for also being such a jerk to Drake when he is so clearly struggling to do better.”

Steph stared and shook her head. “Since when do you of all people care if someone is being a jerk to Tim? I thought that was your life’s calling, Demon Brat.”

“-Tt-” Damian walked back into the kitchen. Steph trailed behind. Dick and Cass had since jumped up to check on Tim and were gently coaxing him back to the table with reassuring words and gentle touches. Jason vaguely registered a burning smell before he realized with a start that he’d been so caught up in the drama that he’d forgotten about the pancakes currently on the stove.

As he cursed and threw them into the waste bin, Damian replied dryly, “I’m tired of having to explain to various people that, yes, _'Fat-girl’_ , I do care what happens to the members of this family, our team, and, in this particular instance, Drake. I’ve been one of Drake’s most adamant supporters. Imagine how much less pathetic and useless Drake would be if he let himself sleep now and then instead of running around Gotham like some kind of coffee-fueled zombie, instead of sticking his exhaustion-clumsy fingers into cases and situations he would be better off leaving to Father and I. Imagine if he only offered his assistance when needed, instead of trying to be everywhere and do everything all at once.”

Jason shook his head slowly as he poured out a new set of pancakes. “And here, just when I was thinking the bat brat might have finally grown a heart…”

Dick nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well, at least it’s an improvement over them trying to kill each other. Can you imagine him admitting that there are situations in which Tim’s 'assistance’ would be 'needed’ three years ago? Let’s count this as progress and move on.”

Jason cut off Damian’s indignant growl with a wave. “Hey, Dames, come over here and help me get the eggs going. Cass, can you take care of plates? And you,” he stopped and glared pointedly at Steph, “go apologize to Tim. That was a dick thing to do, and you know if _I’m_ the one telling you that then…”

Steph rolled her eyes, but threw her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I get it, 'Alfie Jr’. Keep your eyes on the pancakes.”

“I should think such an appellation would be an esteemed honor, Master Jason,” Alfred intoned smoothly as he stepped into the kitchen, eyes twinkling with amusement. Jason caught his eye and grinned. Knowing Alfie, he’d probably listened to entire conversation from outside the door before choosing the most opportune moment to make his entrance. Or he’d tapped into the network of bugs that Jason was convinced Alfie hid from everyone, including B - the man had been a _spy_ after all.

“Sure is, Alfie. I think I’ll get that engraved on a plaque and hung on the wall of my kitchen, you know?”

Alfred nodded with a quiet smile, then turned toward the table. “Miss Stephanie, once you’ve finished apologizing to Master Tim, would you be so kind as to set out water glasses for everyone. I think it’s high time we sat down to enjoy the breakfast Master Jason has so graciously prepared for us.”

Steph nodded contritely and murmured another quiet 'sorry’ to Tim before turning to cabinets. Alfred turned his hawkish gaze upon the table’s remaining occupants, namely Bruce, Dick, Cass, and Tim.

“Was that a mug I saw someone throw into the rose garden? I don’t suppose if I take a stroll down there after breakfast I’ll find it crushing one of the roses the groundskeepers and I have worked so hard to maintain?”

Several wild glances passed between them, and across the kitchen Damian paled, then murmured a stumbling excuse along the lines of “need toilet" and skittered away from the stove. Jason shook his head but took over the eggs. Steph stifled a laugh and Cass shook her head. Alfred lifted one brow and swept his sharp gaze over the entire kitchen, stilling everyone. No one so much as twitched even as they all clearly saw Damian dart out of a window a few rooms over then streak across the lawn.

Bruce cleared his throat. “N-no, of course not, Alfred.” The kitchen broke out in a chorus of 'no’s and Alfred nodded his satisfaction.

“Very good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the “conclusion” to the Coffee, Coffee Everywhere series (clarification: but _not_ the end to the "Except for Everything, I'm Perfectly Fine" drabble collection), but stick around for the epilogue and an announcement about future additions to the ‘verse next week. Thank you to everyone who has read, kudoed, commented for any part of the series!!!
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Like and reblog this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/175124843230/coffee-coffee-everywhere-pt-20). Thanks for reading!  
> 


	26. Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Epilogue (Tim & Batfam)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Ao3 user SummoningSecrets for leaving the comment that inspired this last extra part to the series: _"I’d love to see Tim experimenting with how far the family will believe his coffee addiction goes (because even he has limitations). Since Tim successfully lies to Batman, no one knows if he’s lying about the coffee or not. Meanwhile Alfred watches in the background, well aware of what Tim’s doing but doesn’t say anything, deeply amused."_ Enjoy!

“Good Morning, Master Timothy.”

Tim turned away from the coffee maker, lowering the mug from his lips, and murmured a quiet good morning to Alfred as he entered the manor’s kitchen.

The mug caught his gaze and he paused. The corners of his mouth twitched into what Tim knew to be the Alfred-equivalent of a fond smile. “It’s good to see you’ve moved past your temporary aversion to coffee and have returned to your normal habits,” he commented dryly, eyes twinkling.

His tone of chagrined amusement didn’t escape Tim, who huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s not as bad as you think. This” - he waved the modestly-sized mug - “is my first and last cup this morning, and it’s not even full strength.”

“Oh?” Alfred raised an inquisitive eyebrow challengingly.

Tim’s lips twisted into a uncertain smile. “I’m starting at two cups a day, one decaf and one regular, decaf in the morning and, strange as it is to say it, regular at night, right before patrol.” He twisted the mug around in his hands absently, brow furrowing as he searched around for the right way to frame his reasons. “I know how bad that sounds, but that combination has worked out best for my sleep and wake cycle.”

Alfred nodded understandingly. “That would make a fair bit of sense considering that six at night probably feels, in all likelihood, more like morning to you than six in the morning does,” he commented. Tim blinked as he considered that, then nodded slowly. Put like that, it made a lot of sense why saving most of his caffeine for nights had worked out so well so far.

“Oh, and I also have a cup of green tea at lunch to keep me going until the afternoon nap, and then a bit of chocolate here and there, but that’s about it,” Tim added, taking a nervous sip of his decaf as he waited for any hint of disapproval, but none came.

Instead Alfred granted Tim one of his rare, overt smiles and nodded in approval. “Very good, Master Tim. It seems you’ve found a healthy balance for your caffeine intake. Now it will be a matter of maintaining that balance…” he trailed off, giving Tim a mild warning glare.

He laughed. “Yeah, I know. Every now and then the temptation to binge on coffee or chug an energy drink pops up, but to be completely honest, I like how I feel without the excess caffeine in my system that whenever the urges hit, I just laugh at them.” He shook his head and smiled down at his coffee. “I’ve been there, done that and I am _done_ with all of that.”

Alfred’s quiet smile took on a proud tinge, a look he reserved for occasions such as Jason agreeing to come home for Thanksgiving or Bruce telling one of the Batkids how much he loved them. “I’m glad to hear it, Master Tim. So I suppose that means no more crazy coffee-flavored cooking adventures?”

Tim chuckled and tapped his fingers against the mug nervously. “Well, no new ones at least, and when I make the meringues and coffee pasta now, I use strictly decaf instant coffee,” he explained, raising his mug for a sip. Alfred raised an eyebrow skeptically and Tim choked. “R-Real decaf, that is,” he clarified quickly, hiding his sheepish grin under the rim of his mug as he took another hasty sip.

Alfred nodded sagely, the amused twinkle in his eye at odds with the firm line of his mouth. “Very good, Master Tim. We’ll make a self-responsible young man of you yet.” He grinned and Alfred surprised him by ruffling his hair fondly - a very rare gesture of affection from the stately old butler - as he glided past Tim on the way to the refrigerator. He began pulling out materials for breakfast.

“I suppose the only trouble now will be convincing your father and brothers to believe you are capable of such growth,” Alfred commented drily as he began cracking eggs into a bowl.

“What?”

“I happened to overhear Masters Jason and Dick discussing with Miss Stephanie the odds of your return to obsession the other night,” Alfred explained. He shook his head. “It would seem some of your siblings have taken bets as to when you would decline into a relapse.”

“Did they?” Tim asked, forcefully keeping his tone light all the while his expression darkened. Alfred noticed, of course, and nodded in commiseration.

“Indeed. From the little I overheard and from the few things I’ve noticed here and there, it seems most of the family, including Master Bruce himself, have entered the betting pool. The average duration wagered upon is three weeks from the day you resume consuming caffeinated beverages, and Miss Stephanie seems to think you will last twelve days, two short of Master Jason’s guess of a single fortnight,” Alfred informed him drily, his exasperation with the lot of them shining through clearly.

Tim felt a flare of annoyance but smiled tightly at the elderly butler. “Thank you for letting me know, Alfred. I’ll put this intelligence to good use.” The one-time spy uttered a demure “of course” but Tim saw the satisfied cast to his expression. Tim tapped his chin thoughtfully. With Alfred on his side…

“I guess if they’re all so sure I’ll fall back into bad habits I’ll just have to prove them wrong,” Tim mused out loud, his eyes taking on a wicked gleam as several ideas occurred to him. “Twelve days, huh…?”

Alfred gave him a piercing look then nodded, a sharp gleam of amusement lighting up his own eyes. “I suppose you will, Master Tim.”

—

The next day, four days since he had started drinking coffee again, Tim made a point to drink a second mug of something very dark at breakfast, and if Bruce and Damian thought that it was another mug of coffee, then shame on them for jumping to conclusions.

The day after that he had three mugs of coffee-looking beverages with breakfast, alternating between shooting innocent looks at the family members who were giving him side-eye and sharing conspiratorial grins with Alfred behind their backs.

That night, before patrol, he poured decaf coffee grinds into an empty “Regular” container and intentionally waited until someone came into the kitchen before making his nightly coffee, very deliberately leaving the container out on the counter with the label clearly displayed. He made a full pot, poured the entire thing into the mega mug, and had to stifle a laugh at the wide-eyed look Dick gave him as he walked out. He only drank half and snuck the other half into the back of the fridge for a quick iced-coffee the next morning.

After patrol he made himself another large mug of coffee which he made certain to wave around before heading up to shower. He wished he could have snapped a shot of Bruce and Jason’s faces respectively - they were like mirror images of stony shock and disapproval. Like father like son? Jason would _love_ that comparison. Tim didn’t drink the ridiculously watered down decaf, but just so he wouldn’t waste the water, and in full defiance of that one time Jason told him never to shower in coffee, he used the cooled coffee to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.

As planned, he returned the mug to the kitchen just before Jason was about to head up, letting him know in passing that he hadn’t drunk the entire mug, and then asking if his hair smelled like coffee. Tim _really_ wished he’d had his camera then so he could have documented the priceless expressions on Jason’s face as he went through the full range of emotions, from laughably relieved to dramatically alarmed to full-force horrified as he surreptitiously leaned in for a sniff.

At lunch the next day, he showed up to his smoothie “date” with Steph already carrying a Venti cup from Starbucks, and he ordered a “Café Loco” with regular coffee without a trace of hesitation. Steph looked as if she’d been force fed a whole lemon. Tim struggled not to laugh throughout the entire lunch as he switched back and forth between the Starbucks and the smoothie and Steph winced every time. Too bad she didn’t think to ask what was in that Venti cup - the combination of herbal peppermint tea and the chocolate-coffee smoothie was surprisingly pleasant. She probably would have enjoyed a taste.

By the end of the week Tim was giving off all appearances of having matched his previous consumption of caffeinated beverages - three cups in the morning, four cups of tea at work, four cups before patrol and the mega mug right before bed.

In reality he was still only drinking the equivalent of one cup of decaf in the morning, one cup of green tea in the afternoon and one cup of regular coffee before patrol, employing every trick and fake-out he could think of to convince the family otherwise. That meant a lot of herbal tea, decaf iced tea, and plain water hidden beneath the lids of travel mugs.

Actually, since he’d started drinking all this extra water he’d started performing better on patrol and generally feeling better all around, enough so that he was considering keeping up the extra liquids even after he wrapped up this affair. So, besides getting a kick out of everyone’s poorly concealed reactions, this game had already had the added perk of improving his hydration habits. Tim was having a great time, and he was only just getting started.

On Monday he began purposefully eating coffee-flavored foods in front of the family. Six containers of coffee-flavored yogurt over the span of a single day, two with each meal - he probably needed the protein, anyway, and his gut would certainly be happy - espresso cheese over coffee pasta for lunch - decaf pasta, of course - and a mocha chip frozen yogurt bar after patrol. All pretty tame, to be honest, but the family was still aghast and poorly concealing it.

He doubled his efforts the next day, again using every trick up his sleeve to make it seem like he was eating more than he was. He munched on chocolate covered raisins at lunch to fool Steph into thinking he was attempting to eat a half pound of chocolate covered coffee beans in one sitting. He using food coloring to turn his rice brown to the chagrin of Damian and the horror of Bruce at dinner. Eating three mocha chip yogurt bars after patrol while literally hovering behind Dick in the cave just so he could watch Dick struggle with his inbred urge to turn around and shoot concerned looks at Tim over his shoulder.

Actually, Tim was a little surprised no one had said anything to him yet about his changing habits - no expressions of concern or gentle suggestions to take things slowly. He was a little upset about that. Maybe it was because Alfred was present for most of his shenanigans and appeared to approve for lack of any protest, but Tim knew it was probably because they wanted to test him. Part of their silence was for the benefit of the betting pool, but if that were the only motivator, Bruce would have put his foot down days ago. No, they wanted to see how well he could manage on his own without outside interference, to see if he could be trusted on his own.

Part of him could understand why they want to know - so they could know how much energy to invest in keeping an eye on him in the future - and why they worried in the first place - he’d gone pretty far off the deep end before he saw the error of his ways - but the rest of him resented that the family didn’t believe he could grow and change and be better than he was before, that they would stoop to treating him like the subject of an experiment and laugh as they made bets on the outcome. To quote a classic, he found their lack of faith “disturbing.”

On Wednesday, one day before had Steph predicted he would crack, Tim laid out his _coup de grace_. The family was planning to meet that night, first for a quick dinner, then briefing down in the cave before joint patrols. Normal Wednesday night stuff.

Tim coordinated with Alfred and lay in wait, so that when the family began filing into the dining room around seven o’ clock, there he was, already sitting with his “coffee feast” laid out before him. All in all, he had “coffee” mashed potatoes, “coffee” broccoli, “coffee” carrots, coffee-rubbed steak, a mug of café leche, and the mega mug of “coffee.”

“Uh… Tim,” Dick began slowly as members of the family formed a loose ring around him, some taking seats around the table, others lounging “casually” against the wall behind him. He has a pretty good idea of what’s about to happen next, and it takes everything in his power to keep a straight face.

Dick sat down across from him and continued. “So, we were all talking and, um, we realized that it was about time that we sat down with you and, uh, talked about how you, um, seem like, lately, that you’ve been maybe a little too, uh, ‘enthusiastic’ about, well-”

“Coffee. You’re drinking too much coffee again, is what Dickie is trying to say,” Jason snapped from over Tim’s right shoulder. Dick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. Jason flipped him the bird and Bruce frowned.

“Coffee? Really? I only started drinking it again a few days ago. Have I really been drinking that much?” Tim asked innocently, turning to Jason with a startled expression. Cass stepped up beside Jason and nodded, face twisted in concern and both hands gripping her upper arms in a tense position that screamed worry. He felt the slightest inklings of guilt for worrying sweet Cass, but then he remembered that he had it on good authority that even _she_ had cast a bet into the pool, even if Steph had had to egg her to do it.

“Yeah, Tim, you really have,” Steph confirmed grimly from behind him. He twisted around in his seat to look at her and nearly rolled his eyes at the deeply serious expression of disapproval on her face. As if Steph had much room to talk; she was still nearly as bad about coffee as he had been!

“And it’s not even just the coffee you’re drinking, look at what you’re eating!” she exclaimed, pointing to his plate.

“For the love of- are those coffee _vegetables_ , Drake?” Damian asked, looking thoroughly disgusted even as he leaned in ridiculously close to examine the food from Tim’s left side. He jumped - for once the little ninja kid had actually managed to sneak up on him - and he dragged his plate away with a scandalized scowl.

“What is it with you and sticking your face into my damned food?!” he demanded.

“Is there coffee in those potatoes?!” Damian shrieked back at him in return.

Bruce cleared his throat from where he sat at the head of the table and silence fell over the group. “This is an intervention,” he intoned seriously, the other members of the family nodding along grimly.

Tim was howling with laughter inside, and barely holding onto his composure on the outside. “Intervention? But why?” he asked, letting the pitch of his voice rise high and appalled, and clutching at his chest like some offended Victorian-age maiden. Behind Bruce, Alfred’s lips twitched at the corners for his comically over-acted performance.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly why we’re here; why we’re doing this. Denying it doesn’t make it any less of a problem,” Jason scoffed, sounding annoyed. There were several annoyed and impatient expressions around the table, in fact. They were starting to catch on to his act, but clearly not the reasons for it.

Dick nodded, brow pinching as he swept his arms in gesture to Tim’s meal. “I mean look at yourself, Tim. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to try to get away from by quitting caffeine and going through weeks of detox?”

“But it’s not really _that_ much is it?” Tim asked, pulling out his silliest puppy dog eyes and batting them furiously in one last ditch effort to clue the family in on his joke. Alfred stifled a cough behind his hand that Tim swore was cover for a laugh, but there were still no light bulbs over the heads of the other of the family members.

“'Not that much’? Are you kidding?” Steph exclaimed stepping forward and swiping the fork out of his mashed potatoes. Tim let it happen. “Not that much?! Look at this. Tim, you’ve put coffee in _everything_ in front of you,” she explained, pointing to the fork for emphasis.

“I can’t believe Alfred even let you bring this crap to his table. I can’t believe you can eat this stuff and not immediately hurl your guts out,” Jason added hotly. “I mean, what does all that even taste like?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to know,” Steph demanded, stabbing the fork into the potatoes and scooping out a blob. Ignoring mixed sounds of disgust and protest from the others, she made a face and opened her mouth to take a bite. “Probably like burnt tires that have gone through a blen- …”

She cut off abruptly and stared at the fork. Tim allowed himself a tight smile and waited for it. She blinked, then looked down at the plate. “This… doesn’t taste like coffee…? It… doesn’t taste like anything?”

Damian frowned and swiped a finger through the potatoes and raised it to his mouth. “Huh. It tastes like Pennyworth’s mashed potatoes and nothing else,” he confirmed, giving Tim a curious look that Tim returned with a “what the hell was that?!” expression, because who just sticks their fingers into someone’s food without asking?!?

“What do you mean it doesn’t taste like coffee?” Jason asked, leaning forward over Tim’s shoulder to get a closer look. “It’s brown enough to make me wanna puke, so…”

“It shouldn’t,” Tim informed them matter-of-factually. “There isn’t any coffee in it.”

The whole family froze, gears turning as they stared at him, then at his food, and then back to him again.

“Bull,” Steph challenged and several others nodded in agreement.

“There’s no coffee in any of it except the steak and the café leche, and that is barely half a cup of decaf diluted by a ton of milk,” Tim explained patiently.

“But the food-” Bruce began.

“Is colored with food coloring.”

Damian cocked his head then swiped a carrot off the plate. Tim sighed.

“Yes, no hint of coffee, simply a carrot,” the youngest declared to the room.

Tim pushed the plate toward him. “You going to try a piece of broccoli? Might as well touch all of my food while you’re at it.”

“-Tt- I believe you, Drake,” Damian responded, pushing the plate back. “I knew you wouldn’t be so foolish so soon after having vowed never to stoop to such idiotic levels of caffeine consumption ever again.”

Tim sighed and shook his head. “Oh. Yes. Of course.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Jason admitted slowly, rounding the chair so he could look Tim in the eye. “I mean, maybe the food is a fake, but all the coffee you’ve been drinking lately, decaf or not-”

Tim raised the mega mug and offered it to Jason. The older man took the mug warily and peered suspiciously at the contents.

“That is 90% of all the 'coffee’ I’ve been drinking for the past eleven days,” Tim told him.

Jason raised the mug and took a long draw. He froze, then lowered the mug slowly. “That’s not coffee.”

“Yes.”

“That's…mugicha?” Jason asked in a stunned voice. Tim nodded, then grinned as Cass darted forward and slid the mug out of Jason’s loose grip and retreated to one side to sip on her newly acquired prize. She shot him a small smile over the rim of the mug and winked.

“What is 'muggy-cha’?” Dick asked with a frown.

“ _Moo-ghi-chah_ ,” Jason sounded out for him slowly. “It’s a Japanese tea made from roasted barley. Naturally caffeine free, generally tastes like cereal or unfermented beer, but when roasted well it has hints of coffee or chocolate.”

“A tea that tastes like cereal?” Dick asked, eyes widening comically as his eyebrows flew up into his hair.

“Don’t tell him that, Jason! Now he’s going to steal all of my mugicha!” Tim cried, looking over at the mug in Cass’s hands longingly.

“Quit your whining, Timbo, it’s not sweet enough for Dickie, in any case.” Jason shook his head slowly. “I didn’t even think you _knew_ what mugicha was.”

“I learned a lot about tea back when I made tea for everyone after patrol that one time, remember?” Tim reminded them. Cass took a sip of the mugicha and nodded approvingly. “It’s actually pretty good. The toasty flavor reminds me of a light roast coffee sometimes and chocolate or cereal or beer other times, just like you said.”

“Mugicha is actually really good for you. Very hydrating,” Jason said slowly, staring Tim down as if waiting for the 'psyche! But actually…’

“Yup. I know,” Tim answered simply, waiting for it to finally sink in.

Jason blinked then glanced over Tim’s meal. Across the room Bruce let out a long breath and Damian shook his head slowly. Steph stared.

“Wow. You… you weren’t kidding, Babybird. You’ve really been skipping the coffee, just like you said,” Jason finally admitted in a awed tone.

“Yep,” Tim confirmed. “I haven’t had more than the equivalent of two cups of coffee per day since the mac 'n cheese incident,” he informed them smugly. “You all lose.”

“W-what?” Dick stuttered breathlessly. Around the room several people twitched guiltily. Tim shook his head. So much for inscrutable Bats, huh?

“I know you guys started a betting pool on how long it would take me to crack and fall back into my crazy coffee ways,” Tim tells them, pinning each of them with an unrelenting stare one person at a time.

“Tim, we didn’t-” Steph begins.

“Alfred told me all about; don’t try to deny it,” he cut in flatly.

“Alfie! How could you?!” Dick bewailed in an exaggerated tone of betrayal, all the while smiling at the man gratefully and winking.

“I wasn’t going to deny it,” Steph continues, glaring at Dick. “We totally took bets - don’t you even try to tell me you didn’t, Dick Grayson because I was there-”

“I was rooting for you, Timmy. I bet it would take you at least six months, if not longer,” Dick told him proudly.

“Your faith and confidence in me, is so inspiring,” Tim deadpanned drily.

“Stop interrupting me!” Steph snapped, slapping Dick lightly on the arm. She turned to Tim. “Yes, we took bets, but if we’re being completely honest with ourselves, we were always hoping we would each lose, that we would be wrong about our fears. This is one of those 'I hate being wrong, but this time I’d hate to be right almost as much’ kind of situations’,” she explained. Across the room Bruce nodded seriously and Jason shrugged with a chagrined grin. Cass crept up beside him and offered him a new glass of mugicha with an apologetic look - apologetic not just for the mugicha, but for all of it, Tim surmised.

“I still win,” Tim repeated, taking a sip of the tea then sweeping a cool glare over all of them. “Because I’m never going back to drinking - or eating - that much coffee ever again.”

“Well… good,” Steph replied, nodding. “In that case, we’re all kind of winners,” she concluded, patting him on the back.

“Yes, but I _actually_ won, so does that mean I get the pot?” he asked with a sharp grin.

Bruce cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him. “Well. Actually, no.” Tim frowned. He had been joking but, really, to be fair…

“As you all know, I didn’t cast a bet,” Bruce began.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because you claimed you only wanted to know for 'academic purposes.’ Like that’s any better,” he muttered under his breath. Tim huffed a quiet laugh - he had totally called it - and a muscle jumped in Bruce’s jaw, but he otherwise seemed to ignore Jason’s interjection.

“But, as an impartial observer, I kept track of the bets-”

Steph snorted. “Yeah, only because Alfred flat out refused.”

“And with good reason, Miss Stephanie,” Alfred chimed in, sweeping an icy gaze over all of them. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, testing Master Tim in that way,” he informed them bluntly over Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as if he could literally feel the chill of Alfred’s disapproving glare on his back. “Yes, well. If 'never’ is your final answer, Tim, then you’ll have to share the pot with Damian, because he bet his share of Alfred’s oatmeal cookies for a year that you would never go back to consuming that much coffee ever again.”

They all turned to stare at Damian, who colored but didn’t turn away from their stares. Tim blinked in actual shock.

“Wait! You guys were betting in Alfred’s cookies? But-”

“Wait, really? I thought you said 'Drake is an overworking fool who will fall back into his stimulant addiction in weeks’, or did I hear that wrong?” Jason asked over him.

“-Tt- You heard correctly, if incompletely, Todd. If you had continued listening you would know I said that he would fall back into his stimulant addiction _if_ and only if we stepped back and let him work himself to distraction once more,” Damian explained. His cheeks darkened even further, but he finished off his statement by saying,“What I meant was that, should we withdraw our support, surely he would be driven into self-destructive habits once again. And yes, Drake, we dealt in cookie currency.”

The kitchen was a mix of reactions, ranging from proud smiles of differing intensities from Dick, Alfred, and Cass, to wonderment from Jason and suspicious skepticism from Steph. Damian’s expression darkened under their combined attention and he began closing off and shutting down in the way he always did whenever he inadvertently began to show he was a real boy underneath his sharp-tongued, aloof act.

Tim stared. “Wow. So…” He cleared his throat. Damian curled in on himself defensively and Tim paused to take a slow deliberate breath. “How many cookies do we each get?”

Damian startled slightly then relaxed, huffing a small laugh and grinning sharply. “By my last count, we have at least three months of triple the usual amount of cookies apiece. Better still, Pennyworth has recently added coffee flavor to the recipe, further complimenting the flavors of the walnuts, chocolate and raisins.”

Tim’s eyes widened and he returned the sharp grin. “Oh? Is that so? Coffee cookies? Three per day. I can live with that.”

“Oh, jeez, Tim, noooo…” Dick moaned.

Tim’s grin turned wicked. “Tim, yessssss.”

“Not another coffee food, we just… you just…”

“Calm yourself, Richard,” Damian soothed him, rolling his eyes. “I said coffee-flavored, not caffeinated. There is nothing amiss with enjoying the flavor of coffee.”

“Indeed, they are perfectly healthy,” Alfred chimed in, his eyes flashing in amusement.

Dick looked around wildly for support, but Jason merely chuckled and Bruce’s expression took on a fond cast.

“Yes,” Bruce said, “Just this once. Coffee? Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final installment in the _Coffee, Coffee Everywhere_ series, or at least, this is the last part I will be writing for the main series. I will write brief drabbles in the ‘verse, by request via tumblr, when requests are open. (Requests are **not** open at this time; there will be a message in my blog header when they are). So all those great ideas you guys have been sharing for future parts, hold on to them and head over to my tumblr... I may open ask requests soon ;3
> 
> Speaking of my tumblr... my DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work there at this [page](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/175361918771/coffee-coffee-everywhere-epilogue). Many, many thanks to everyone who has read, kudoed, commented, liked, or reblogged any part of _Coffee Coffee Everywhere_!


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